She's not afraid (One Direction/Selena Gomez)

chapter 24

Tyler steps aside, giving me space. As I approach, echoes of my footsteps infused the silence. On the way there I handed my black bag to Harry, and halt mere inches in front of a man. His eyes slowly trailing up my body, before making eye contact with me. His olive skin of his face is swollen with welts. His strongly defined jawline and small nose bears specks of blood, as his green-bluish eye is rimmed with red.

He snorts: "Are you people fucking serious? But I must say that picture didn't do your beauty justice princess." He winks at me with his good eye.

His words kindled new sense of confidence in me. "Why is everybody calling me princess? Do I look like one or what?" I sigh and shake my head, "never mind." I stoop low so that my face is leveled with his, faint smile frames my lips. "Listen closely now...For your own good be a good boy and answer my questions, yeah. Well if you need word of advice you can ask lads." I straighten my posture.

He smirks: "Princess, don't bother with me, because you will only hurt yourself."

I chuckle under my breath: "Everything isn't what it appears to be, don't you know that? And since I already warned you...my first question will be easy, so... what's your relation with Capuleti?" I cross my arms over my chest and tilt my head slightly to the side.

He laughs, before looks behind me at Harry, Zayn and Tyler: "Isn't she so demn sexy right now? I bet she's even sexier when she's angry."

"If I were you, I wouldn't test this theory, so stop bullshitting!" Harry commented with a chuckle. I turn my gaze in his direction, seeing he is enjoying the show and so does Zayn. Their smirks encouraged the side of me that strongly yearns for praises and approvals.

My eyes turn back to a man before me. He looks up at me with frail smirk: "You know what princess? Give your fucking best shot, but I'm sure it will be only turn on for me."

I shrug with my shoulders, as amused smile stretched my lips. I bring my lips closer to his and whisper: "Fine."

My knuckles press against his left side of ribs, he jerked from my sharp touch, but restrains wouldn't give him much space to move.

"Fucking bitch!" He spits harshly, though I only press harder. His breath turned from regular to a panting gasp, his forehead wrinkled with pain.

I straighten up, "stop being such a drama queen, it's only bruised or broken rib. Now be a good boy and answer my question."

In between shallow puffs he sneers: "Fuck you!"

"You wish, don't you?" I questioned with chuckling voice, then take few steps towards the table behind his back.

Suddenly I halt and turn to him, putting my hands on his shoulders and band down, my lips level his ear: "I know it hurts, but you have to breathe a bit slower, because we don't want you to die just yet. Do we?"

He mutters something but I couldn't catch it, so I leave his side and go the table. There are so many knives; all sizes and shapes. I bit my bottom lip and look at the shelves above; bowls, few clothes, variety of liquids and powders forming an idea in my head. Strangely eager I grab simple silver knife and walk back to that man.

Smirk is plastered on my face, as I look down upon him: "Just so you know I don't have whole day so start talking. And you really don't wanna angry me."

He lifts his head up, glaring at me and speaks through his clenched teeth: "Make me bitch."

I put my hand on my heart and gasp: "No more princesses? Aww...that hurts," a chuckle involuntary falls from my lips. Turning my head at Harry and Zayn to say in their direction: "Is it just me or this was his weak attempt to make me angry? And why are they all so like Patrick from SpongeBob?" I shake my head, Zayn chuckles.