08
1071 Words
I struggled against him, my eyes widened, telling him to let go of me as I couldn't speak. He wasn't budging, and my efforts to push him away were futile.
His stormy gray eyes focused on me, devouring me intently as he stared. After relentless fights of getting him off me, I surrendered, calming down.
He smirked, slowly slipping his hand from my mouth, and his thumb settled on my lower lip using the pad of his thumb to rub tenderly, staring at my lips as if it were a new toy he had been gifted.
My brows twisted into an annoying knot, snapping together, and I yanked my head away from his thumb, annoyingly. He fluttered his gaze to mine. There was something dark in his eyes—something fascinating about the way he stared at me.
“What the hell?” I glared at him.
He moved away but still kept his close distance with me. I frowned at him and tried to walk away, but he shot his arm out to the shelf and trapped me within.
“Where are you going?” He asked in a deep, icy voice that made the hairs on my body stand erect.
I was right… He was more dangerous than his brother.
It was always the quiet ones.
“I'm leaving,” I snarled.
“I didn't say you could leave, did I?” he fluttered his eyes to my lips, they lingered for a while and I could see his jaw twitch as he stared on and on before he withdrew his attention and looked back into my eyes.
I swallowed.
Did he really have to do that?
“So…" he began in a breathy voice.
“What pack are you from?” He questioned, tilting his head.
I c****d a brow at him.
Was he trying to get to know me?
I thought his type never really cared to know about people.
“Who is your father?” He continued and I frowned.
“I'm not obligated to answer you,” I growled.
Father had warned me while coming here not to disclose anything about the family or the pack to anyone. They must not know I'm his daughter, and I don't want them to know he's my father either. It was mutual.
I don't think I want to partake in my father's influence or deal with it.
“Why?” Zayne squeezed his face.
I looked at him, this time I tried not to feel intimidated by him. “Because I don't want to disclose my private life to a stranger,” I scowled, and he flapped his lashes at me, looking at me amusingly and he chuckled.
I squinted my eyes at him. Wondering what was funny.
“They say you are quite difficult,” he smirked.
“I'm starting to see that now,” he taunted.
He moved away from me while I watched him with hooded eyes, wondering what was up next in his sleeve.
“See you around, princess,” he said and walked away.
I blinked profusely, trying to understand what just happened. I let out a breath I didn't realize I'd been holding in because of that creep.
I sighed, rubbing my temple.
I packed my stuff and walked hurriedly out of the library.
I was thinking of heading back to my dorm to rest, since I didn't have any other important things to do today.
I checked my class schedule and realized I wouldn't have any classes for the next three hours. That was enough time for me to sneak and rest in my room.
As I was walking down the hallway, I saw a group of students gathered afar. I scoffed, wondering what was going on as they chanted and laughed.
The way they all gathered could only mean one thing.
Someone was being bullied.
Sending my sympathy to whomever it may be. I didn't intend to join the crowd to check what was going on.
What was the need?
It was pathetic anyway.
They would only watch and not help. Since I was no savior myself, there was no need to watch what was going on.
“You f*****g b***h, so you had the guts to make that blonde witch your friend!” I heard, and I paused to my feet.
“What do you expect?” I heard another voice.
“A loser bonds with another loser,” the same voice remarked, mockingly.
Wait, what?
If I'm not mistaken, was it not Sandra's voice I just heard first?
Blonde witch?
I didn't need to fix the puzzle together before I knew she was talking about me.
Coming to think of it, I hadn't seen Fiona all day.
Could she?
Oh, no! I gasped.
She mentioned something about Sandra being her cousin or something.
I don't know what I was doing. This wasn't my thing or a role I usually play, but I found myself squeezing a way through the crowd.
Successfully, I pushed myself against the crowd.
My forehead creased, and my eyebrows twisted into a knot when I saw Sandra and her meanies ganged up on Fiona, who was on the floor, helplessly.
She looked a mess, her red curly hair had been tampered with and had lettuce leaves and sliced tomatoes from a hamburger. Her uniform was dirty and stained from a juice that had been poured on her.
Her glasses were merely hanging on the bridge of her nose.
Her makeup was smudged and tears shimmered in her eyes, she looked like a zombie straight out of a horror movie.
Sandra smirked, “Sometimes I feel shame knowing we are even related, pathetic wench.”
“Pl-please stop!” Fiona begged, her lips quivering.
“Stop?” Sandra stared wide-eyed at her, then cackled.
It was none of my business. I told myself. I should turn away and act like I hadn't seen her.
“Give me that, Joey, we need to teach this b***h a lesson,” she hissed, facing one of her puppet with Auburn hair.
The girl passed the bottle of milk in her hands to Sandra, and she snatched it from her hand.
Sandra opened the lid.
My hands clenched by my side, chanting to myself repeatedly that it was none of my business.
Sandra maneuvered the bottle of milk that was in her hand over Fiona's head.
“Stop!”
- Writer
