oilux:

Mabel tilted her head to the side, choppy, layered brown hair falling into her vision. It needed to be trimmed, the thought of cutting it short was tempting, but not for her. Bill brushed it away from her shoulder, waiting for an answer.

“Am I supposed to be afraid of you?” Mabel asked instead, leaning into the touches. He brushed his fingers along her throat, nails scraping against her skin slightly. He could tear out her throat if he wanted to.

“Yes,” Bill replied. “You should fear me just like everyone else does.”

Mabel leaned closer, his lips just barely brushing against her own. Bill froze at the contact, staring up at her as she stood, leaving him sitting on his own. 

“I think you’re more afraid of me at this point, dear.”