Magnolia in May [H.S]

Part sixty.

^^^ Made this for the aesthetic of the chapter, I might start doing this for every part.

If you don't like kinky smut then this chapter isn't for you. I hope y'all enjoy this part because it was a bitch to write, nonetheless I love it. Sending all my love - comment and vote my sugarplums!

*wink*

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Magnolia

Yesterday...

"Go ahead, keep lying." I seethe, as the seconds passed hurt liquefied into pure blistering fury. My poker face struggled to remain its composure, flickering with the undermined anger that boiled from within me. I wasn't taking any of this lightly, as much as it looked like I was on the outside. My heart hurt, that was the kicker of this all. How destroyed this situation made me when I figured it wouldn't.

"Like always I have no idea what you're going on about." The voices' words trail out, evanescently building the horrible tangent taste in my mouth. Holding my jaw shut for the control that was figuratively and physically slipping from my grasp. The idea of being in charge satisfied me like no other, it was vital. And seeing it burn up into embers right before my eyes was the equivalent of a dagger being thrust into my chest. 

"Really? So you didn't have anything to do with me being drugged? I just picked the wrong drink or something?" The tone in my voice drops, low to the point my vocal cords hurt just with the simple phrases.

The big blue eyes roll in annoyance, wisps of black hair trailing around in the pellucid winds. A series of memories awaken from my being, thoughts of gaslighting. Even looking at her unearthed awful pictures, ones that flashed in my head like a sick slide show.

You are strong. She doesn't affect you anymore.

Her lips upturned into a devious smile, it shared the same feeling of how Harry was when he joked. Except this was far less genuine than him, it was a way to degrade me rather than playfully poke fun. I hated the fact I could correlate anything they did, solely for the reason he was nothing like her. He wasn't a liar, or manipulative.

"Sweetheart, I don't know, you have a tendency to pop whatever pill-resembling thing you can find so,"

She tucks her hair behind her ears, licking over the gloss of her lips. The unwavering smile tells me she knows exactly what she's doing. Instead of breaking down as I'd usually do when it comes to her, I glare daggers. Opposing her amusement with no reaction at all. She wanted one and I hoped I was strong enough to deflect it. 

"I'm six months sober on Saturday Saffron," I fight the urge to mumble, clearing my throat so the words come out clear. My front of tenacity was a complete lie, and I knew after this I'd be zoned out in isolation.

She hums according to my words, turning her head in a form of intimidation as her eyes trace over me. Note-taking, extracting the very middle of my soul.   

Saffron played the game of control well, just with her body's movement and expressions. She didn't need her words to make it worse, they were the cherry on top of the dictation.

"Maybe it was your alpha-male boyfriend that roofied you, he seemed like the type, considering his sticky fingers with drugs. You know, why don't you ask your drug s-"

Before she can run her mouth further I cut her off, letting my vexation pour out. "Fuck. You." My thoughts fled back to my mind, circulation of her words. What the hell is she talking about? It invaded my mind, fighting against the notion I knew; you had to take everything she said with a grain of salt. Not only was she a manipulative bitch she was a compulsive liar.