Prisoning Truth

…The Next Day (At Night)…




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Giselle's POV:
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Nothing seems to have brought joy through my life, other than Harry’s presence. Him, like no other man, showed me brutality and tenderness at the same time. He allowed me to see through his character, he made me realize how important it is for people to share their feelings without hesitation. My knowledge of people and human traits was from the amount of books and stories, which I encountered in my empty life.





At that time, I believed that love must be romantic, and breathtaking; closer to a fairytale than to a reality. But it turns out that the obstacles in life are much greater than the ones the stories were filled with. Who cares if two people argue on something? Who cares if they never agree on a certain detail?





The most important thing that the two lovers must have, is that flow of deep passion that only pumps right up to the heart; when they are together. And here I am, in this luxurious room, talking and thinking to myself. It is a healthy practice, but not in this situation; not when my soul guardian is locked down in the worst places that a person could be in. Do I care what will happen to me?





No. What I care for, is what happens to my green-eyed fantasy that’s held in captivity. At this point, I don’t seem to care if Santers is at home or not, I will go down to the dungeon and I will see Harry; regardless of what consequence will play a role after. Without giving it more thought, I stanch the doorknob, rushing out of the room and down the staircase in a quick pace.





The mansion seems to be silent, and that only makes my paces faster through the long hallway. I barge through the door, climbing down the three steps and rushing over to Harry; but I freeze at the scene that’s being played in front of me. There stands Santers, with a knife in his grip; pointing it at Harry as his devilish smile is plastered over his face. He notices my appearance (http://www.polyvore.com/zebra_royalty/set?id=132404117&lid=3808962), which drives his head to where I stand; giving me a look of amusement.





“I was planning on telling you after I was done, but this makes it more interesting that you’re here to watch the death of this git.” Harry’s painful eyes stare at mine with sorrow, begging me in some sort of matter to leave right this moment. His body is lying on the asphalt floor, giving me the knowledge that Santers has been beating him lifelessly; before my arriving moment.





He swings his shoe, kicking Harry’s stomach cruelly; causing my prince to hiss from the pain. “(He snarls) Don’t you dare look at her, unless I allow you.” Harry coughs from the kick, struggling to maintain his breathing order. It was like time froze, or turned into a slow motion stride. The next thing I find myself doing is my hands pushing Santers’s body to where the wall is directed.





His grip over the knife weakens, as it drops to the ground; while he stumbles backwards at my surprisingly strong push. Before he got the chance to curse, I pickup the weapon from the ground, bringing the slicing blade under my throat. “(He speaks in worry) Giselle, darling. Put the knife down. Relax, princess. Easy n-…” I cut him off, steadying the blade under my throat in a dangerously close distance.





Harry’s head lifts up to look at me, showing me for the rarest time; that he’s scared. “(He croaks, trying to pause his hurting) Baby, don’t do this… (He coughs, trying to stand up weakly) Doll face, please give it to me. You don’t want to do this; you’re smarter than this. We can work it out, please just give me th-…”





I shush Harry, with my shaking laughter, lingering in a high volume. Giselle is no longer here; all what’s left from me is my insanity. This situation doesn’t need a sane and rational person, it needs someone like who I am right now.

Notes

2 more chapters, so:


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