𝐁𝐎𝐑𝐍 𝐓𝐎 𝐃𝐈𝐄 ¹- jj maybank

𝟎𝟏𝟓; 𝘦𝘥𝘨𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘧𝘦𝘢𝘳, 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘳𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘦𝘧

SEASON 1
EPISODE 3

"Get the fuck away from her!"

»»-----　　-----««

VICTORIA MADE HER WAY BACK home through the quiet, shadowed streets of the town, the only sounds around her the soft rustling of leaves and the occasional buzz of a streetlamp flickering above. She'd been offered a ride by the Pogues, but she'd declined with a smile, waving them off. She knew they had more pressing plans, and besides, she felt like she needed this walk to clear her head. The night was cool and a bit misty, with the smell of the ocean drifting through the air, mixing with the lingering scent of salt and sand on her skin.

As she walked, slightly tipsy from the evening's laughter and drinks, she wrapped her arms around herself and let her thoughts wander. Tonight had been so much fun, almost surreal, like a glimpse of what things could be if life were a little simpler. And JJ... a small, uncontrollable smile spread across her face at the thought of him. It felt like he was finally letting his guard down, that tough exterior he always wore cracking just enough to let her see something real beneath it. She could still feel the warmth of his hand in hers, the way his eyes softened when he looked at her tonight.

A cool breeze picked up, brushing through her hair, and she shivered, hugging herself tighter. Everything felt so right, so much like the old days, like she was slipping back into the moments she'd missed so much. The laughter, the easy banter, the way JJ looked at her when he thought she wasn't paying attention. For so long, it felt like they'd drifted apart, with JJ always hiding behind his jokes and bravado. But tonight, she felt that connection come alive again, a spark of the old JJ she used to know—and maybe something more.

Suddenly, a powerful arm wrapped around her, pulling her back and locking her in place. Victoria's body went rigid as her breath hitched in her throat. Panic flooded her senses as she felt the icy, unforgiving edge of a knife press against her neck, its sharpness sending a shiver through her. She was trapped, unable to move her arms pinned tightly against her sides.

"Be quiet," the man's voice hissed, barely more than a whisper in her ear, rough and demanding. His breath was hot and unsettling against her cheek, each word laced with menace. "Give me your money."

Her throat was dry, her voice almost a whimper. "I—I don't have anything," she managed, though her words came out broken and shaky. The man didn't seem convinced. She felt him shift, one arm holding her tightly while his other hand roamed through her pockets, rough and impatient. His fingers brushed against her, sending waves of panic through her body.

"Nothing, huh?" He sneered, his voice thick with contempt as he pulled her phone out of her jacket pocket, holding it up mockingly in front of her. The cold glow of the screen illuminated his face just enough to reveal a dark silhouette, his eyes glinting with malice as he looked at her. "You don't have anything?"

Victoria's eyes darted around, desperate for some escape, but she was trapped. The street was eerily empty, the usually comforting sounds of the night now deafeningly silent, as if the world had turned its back on her in this moment. She felt the pressure of the knife increase slightly against her throat, and she dared not move, hardly even dared to breathe.

"I'm telling the truth," she whispered, her voice quivering. Her mind raced, trying to think of something, anything that might get her out of this alive. Her hands were trembling at her sides, and her pulse thundered in her ears. She thought about her friends, especially JJ. She wondered if they'd even notice her missing, if they'd come looking for her.

"Please," she pleaded, her voice soft but desperate. "That phone is all I have. Just— please take it and go."

The man chuckled, a dark, humorless sound that made her stomach twist. "You think I'm done with just a phone?" His grip tightened, pulling her closer. She felt her back press against his chest, the cold metal of his knife biting a little deeper against her skin. She bit her lip, fighting back a cry, afraid that any sound might provoke him further.