The twilight came like a soothing summer breeze.
The Mansion of the Smith family was enveloped in an oppressive, deathly silence.
The spacious living room on the third floor was lined with people, their heads bowed in silence, their nerves stretched taut, providing ample evidence about the intensity of the situation that had unfolded just moments ago.
A man leaned against the railing of the window, his sleeves rolled up, revealing slender forearms, the lines not overly delicate, displaying occasional signs of tension with veins subtly visible.
His black Charvet shirt, slightly unbuttoned at the collar, made his collarbone conspicuous.
The evening wind felt unnervingly warm.
The butler, unable to help but swallow hard at the sight of his employer's stiff posture, darted a quick prayer before sounds of stirring came from the bedroom.
"Mr. Smith," the personal doctor descended the narrow staircase, "He has awakened. His condition is stable, nothing to worry about."
With a slight tap of his finger on the railings, the man broke the overwhelming silence with his gentle, clear voice.
"I understand. You may all leave."
His voice was deep and clean, yet carried an imperceptible authority.
The bedroom door creaked open, and Alicia twitched a tad bit, indicating that she recognized the newcomer to be Alexander.
Her gaze was somewhat vacant, her face alarmingly pale.
"Next time you want to die, do it somewhere else," Alexander leaned against the full-length window in the room, "Don't dirty my mansion again, understand?"
His slender fingers danced over his clearly defined knuckles as he lit a cigarette. The gusty night wind ruffled his jet-black hair making it look slightly messy. The moment he looked down, an allure so devilish it was chilling.
Faint beams of moonlight slipped through the silk-like curtains, casting a patchy glow onto the delicate shoulder and neck of Alexander. His refined features and perfect contours were vaguely discernible in the dim light.
Alicia stayed silent.
Finishing a cigarette, Alexander finally ran out of patience.
Taking large strides towards the bed, he lifted the cover and suddenly began tearing at her clothes like a man possessed. Alicia finally lost her composure, screaming and resisting, "Don't touch me! Don't touch me!"
Alexander, incensed, responded with scornful laughter. He easily restrained Alicia, "Don't touch you? Heh, how many times have I touched you in the past three years? What's the matter, Alicia, severed your wrist once and think you're reborn?"
Alicia's body stiffened. She looked at the man before her, tightly clenching her teeth. She was so close, so very close to escaping this hell.
The guards at the Smith Mansion were always well-trained. She had underestimated their sharpness and Alexander's patience.
"You must be regretting it now. At least, the strength of the knife should have been a bit more. Alicia, why not jump off the third floor next time? I guarantee you'll die thoroughly, how about it?"
The faint smell of tobacco lingered around Alicia. Her lashes were wet as her pitiful eyes looked away. In front of him, she was always in a weak position, without even the privilege to fight back.
Alexander swallowed and said dryly, "Not going to talk? Very well, then I might as well think about how I usually touch you."
Alicia cried out in panic, but it was quickly stifled by a dominating, possessive kiss.
The bleeding from the wound started to spread again, the smell of blood lingering in her nose.
She had absolutely no strength to struggle.
Her face was still pale, she burrowed her head into the soft quilt. Her delicate fingers tightly gripping the bed sheet, her knuckles turned red.
Alicia finally couldn't hold back, "Alexander, it hurts a lot."
She cried out, finally pleading, "Be gentle, I beg you, be gentle."
