𝐍𝐨𝐭 𝐀 𝐏𝐬𝐲𝐜𝐡𝐨

𝟏𝟓

𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐊𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐌𝐲 𝐍𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐑𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭?

𝐀𝐄𝐑𝐎𝐍𝐀

I burn some incense and herbs as I get ready for work.

Its still an hour until Coen comes in, so I get started with putting the flowers outside.

Just a few today, since it looks like there could be a heavy downpour at any moment.

I shiver as the cold November air hits me.

This turtleneck isn't doing its work.

Nor are the tights.

It's exceptionally windy today, I hurry back inside grabbing my cup of coffee not before dropping my cookie on the ground.

"Shit." I curse.

Two seconds rule?

I am about to pick up the cookie when I hear the doorbell jingle.

Wow an early customer today.

"Welco-" The word dies out in my throat the instant my eyes collide with the familiar cold pitch black eyes smirking at me.

"Hey flower girl." He grins taking a step closer.

I take a step back mercilessly stepping on the cookie in the process.

"Aww, what happened, little miss flower girl is scared?" He keeps coming closer stalking me until I am pressed against my desk.

The cup in my grasp trembles just barely as I swallow my eyes hardening.

"Seth." I address through clenched teeth as I taken him in.

His signature black vest, black leather jacket and black ripped jeans.

He looked more nice in the orange prison outfit.

"Oh flower girl, I see you remember my name." He proceed to take another step.

"Take a further step near me, I am gonna throw this steaming cup of coffee on your face."

And I mean it though it's hardly hot.

But I can throw the cup if that's not enough.

I am not the helpless girl he tried to choke to death.

"I see you have gotten fiesty." He smirks taking a step back. "I should have broken your vocal cord instead of leaving it to choking. It has always been sweetly annoying."

Don't throw it.

Don't throw it.

Don't throw it, Aerona.

Don't.

"Why the fuck are you here?" I force out calmly.

"Thought about surprising you, now that I'm out of jail." He licks his lips eyeing from head to toe. "So tell me, how is life now that you got a new identity, 𝐴𝑒𝑟𝑜𝑛𝑎?"

The way he takes my name breaking it into two syllable makes my skin crawl.

"Get. Out." I snarl.

"I see you're all talks." Before I can process what's coming, he twists my hand hard making me drop the cup to shatter and the coffee spilling all over the ground.

His hand wraps around my neck in a death grip pinning me against the wall jerking away all the plant pots to the ground.

Not the plants, you motherfucker.