The Reality Of Nightmare (BxB)

CHAPTER VII: BROOKLYN

CHAPTER VII: BROOKLYN

"Look at him, look at me
That boy is bad and honestly
He's a wolf in disguise
But I can't stop staring in those evil eyes." - Lady Gaga, Monster

I'm really not sure how long I was lying on the ground, staring at the ceiling because when I wake up, I'm already in a cream-colored painted room, lying on the comfortable bed, its sheet tangled, smoothing my skin. The room overlooks, just like what I've seen earlier, the city of Brooklyn. The sky is still dark, with the stars scattered around and the glinting moon staring at me.

My eyes roam around the area and find a clock hanging on the wall just near the door. It's a digital clock and it reads 4:07 AM. Looking around I'm the only one in the room. The room is surprisingly neat. There's a polished brown cabinet pushed on the corner of the room and beside it, a four-story drawer. On top of the drawer is a couple of things, I think, the demon owns and on the wall is a large mirror. I can see my reflection in it; my hair is tousled, shirt is wrinkled, and even though I have slept and just woken up, I still look tired. Rubbing the sleep off my eyes, I swing my feet to the ground and cautiously walk and look outside through the window.

The city lights are surprisingly beautiful and just by looking at it, it makes me calm. From here I can see the Brooklyn Bridge – a bridge that connects the borough of Manhattan and Brooklyn, and it's perfect. The cables supporting the bridge has lights, glinting through the calmness of the night and a smile touches my lips. There are a lot of buildings, and through windows I can see their lights turned on, which adds to the beauty of the city. I don't know whether the demon appreciates this beauty, or Slate might have a different meaning for the word beauty, but this is perfect. I would like to thank him for bringing me here, but he's a demon. I'm an angel. It's my nature to be grateful, to be thankful. The moon glints and reflects through the East River, and the river is as calm as the night.

When I turn around, a gasp escapes my lips and I jump backwards, putting a hand on my chest, feeling my heart racing faster and I frown at the demon in front of me, who is currently leaning on the doorway as he watches me. Slate has an evil glint in his eyes, and a sly smile tugged on his lips. Currently he's wearing a simple t-shirt, torn on hem and on the side, near the waist. He looks collected and calm just by staring at me.

"Stop doing that," I rasp out, rolling my eyes at him and turning my head to look at the breathtaking view of Brooklyn. "You nearly scared me to death."

"Brooklyn," he says, his voice deep and masculine. I gulp, feeling his presence growing more and more as he nears me. He stands just behind me, and looks at the city. "The most beautiful place I've been. In America, of course. Why are you awake?"

Now is not probably the good time to make a snarky remark about his question. Instead I heave up a sigh, turn on my heels, and let myself fall on the bed. I'm still scared that the demon had basically kidnapped me, but I have no powers to use against him. I'm powerless. In my mind I start to pray again, hoping that the angel of prayer will hear me and deliver my message to my parents, to the King and Queen. As I shut my eyes, I feel the bed dip, indicating that the demon has either laid down on the bed or taken a seat. I peek at him; Slate is lying on the bed beside me, and his eyes are fixated on the ceiling. The glint of the moon casts around his face, giving him an angelic look, despite the fact that he is really a demon. I admit, the demon really looks good, very handsome indeed, but as much as I want to think of that, he's not a human. He's a demon who could kill me in any second.

Slate turns his face to me, and for a moment we just stare at each other before he scoots closer to me, which prompts me to roll backwards until my back is on the bedhead. Slate scoots closer and I let out a sigh. There's no point in avoiding him. I'm basically trapped here. So instead of trying to avoid him, I let him do what he wants to do. His bare arm touches mine and a shiver runs down my spine, my skin, where his arm touches mine, burns. It makes me feel fuzzy.