The Desires of Darkness [Part One]

She let her glasses fall, breaking on the floor to the side of her. She couldn’t do this anymore.

“No!” She shouted, on the brink of tears, “I won’t help you any longer!”

The young woman searched frantically around the dimly lit den. There were faded yellow papers scattered across the mothball scented desk in front of her; books laid strewn across the floor, having been cast from the nearby bookshelf. However, there was no sign of her captor.

Frightened, she sat back down in the rackety wooden chair and sobbed, no longer caring if the condemned papers she was forced to write got wet.

Suddenly, there was a sound of footsteps, not far beyond the threshold of the doorway. The brunette froze, knowing exactly who was approaching.

“Xandra,” started a low, unearthly voice, “What are you doing?”

Somehow, her oppressor always managed to sound calm and quiet, which was eerie. Every time he walked in a room, however, it would always turn darker, and evil. It was figuratively, either. The lights always got dimmer whenever he entered.

Xandra stood up, brushed her hair out of her face, and wiped her eyes before saying, “Working.” Her voice was quiet and quivering as she spoke.

“That’s very good.” For some reason, she couldn’t help but feel that there was a nearly lethal smile under the black cloak Tyrant wore.

“Listen, Tyrant,” Xandra started, but was quickly interrupted by the dark figure.

“HOW MANY TIMES HAVE I TOLD YOU NOT TO CALL ME THAT?!” He bellowed wickedly. What was left of the very little light in the den went out.

Now, completely surrounded by darkness, Xandra apologized. “I’m sorry, sir, but you’ve never given me anything else to address you by.”

“Dear,” he started, taking a step closer to the alarmed girl, “I’m not a tyrant.” He lifted a pale hand with long, unkempt nails and stroked her chestnut brown locks.

She stood there, frozen, allowing the Tyrant to do as he pleased. It was better than being killed after all… right?

“What would you like to be called, then?” She questioned, trying to keep fear hidden beneath her face.

“Lord will do.” He slowly pulled his hand away.

Filled with contempt, Xandra responded, “Why of course, my lord.”

Author's Note: So, what do you guys think? Should I continue, or stop right there? I could definitely use constructive criticism, as this is the first time I've written original fiction in almost a year.
Thanks!
Dani