"He was bad. He smoked, he broke the law, he drove too fast for his own good. He didn't care because no one taught him how to. But when it came to her, he wanted to be the best man. He couldn't bare the thought of her being hurt by him... or by anyo...
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𝐃𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐢𝐜𝐨'𝐬 𝐩𝐨𝐯
I've lost track of how long I've been in lockup. It's felt like years but it could've been hours or minutes for all I know.
The cops thought they'd be funny and throw me in a cell with a bunch of idiots and creeps. They didn't think it was funny when I beat up every creep and idiot who tried to intimidate or touch me.
They all seemed shocked that I knew how to fight. They stared with their mouths agape as I took four of them on effortlessly and beat them all to within an inch of their lives.
It wasn't until I was grabbing one guy by the collar of his shirt and punching him over and over again that they opened the cell and pried me off him.
They soon realised their mistake and now I sit alone in my own holding cell. I'm covered in blood that's not my own with my knuckles busted and my head tilted back against the wall with my eyes closed.
I can't stop thinking about Ariadne, where she is and if she's okay. The thought of her hurt and crying, makes my blood start to boil.
I don't know where she could've possibly been but the scenarios going through my head are only adding fuel to the fire.
Was she on another date with that fucker?
I clench my jaw and throw my head back into the cement wall to get rid of the possibility of her wearing his shirt, smiling and crawling into his lap like she'd do to me.
I'll fucking kill him if he so much as touches my girl in the wrong way. I still want to cut his lips off for kissing her cheek with them.
I know Ariadne wouldn't cheat on me but it doesn't stop my mind from putting together images of her smiling in his shirt and crawling into his lap and of him kissing and fucking her.
I throw my head back harder into the wall when those images settle inside my brain and make my heart clench and my stomach churn.
"You're going to give yourself brain damage if you keep doing that" a deep masculine voice makes me open my eyes
A man in his early thirties with brown hair, brown eyes and blood all over him is staring at me from the cell beside mine.
The cells are just bars from top to bottom that ensure we can't get out but don't stop us from seeing the other cells and sticking our hands through the bars.
