Beauty, Brains, And Bullets // 5sos

iii

Agent B's point of view

I walked into the living room after finishing my hourly check on the house and then glanced at the pictures on the wall.

There were many with, who I assume to be, their family members and friends. They looked happy and it was like nothing could bring them down.

I caught sight of the one I took down earlier, wondering why this one was so damn special. When I grabbed it, it was as if I broke one of the biggest rules in this house.

It had the band in it, but in the middle it wad a red haired girl. Freckles littered her cheeks and she was in a pair of blue jeans, a flannel, and a pair of boots. A pale pink gun hung off of her hip and she had her arms around Luke.

I rose an eyebrow at studied the picture, noticing a gun hole inside of the couch behind them and some man sat on the couch. He looked like he was laughing as the picture was being taken, and I didn't miss the black gun he had on his lap.

"What are you doing?" Someone asked and I whipped around, a throwing knife at the tip of my fingers. "Don't!" Ashton screeched as he stepped back. "I mean no harm."

"Go to sleep." I said sternly and turned around, falling on to the couch. Going back to sharpening my knives since that's what I was doing before I went on the hourly check around the house.

I heard the floor creak quietly as he moved and I stopped, waiting for him to speak.

"Will you ever tell us your name?" He asked and I shook my head. "Do you not like it?" He asked me and I was quiet. "Is it really long and ugly?" He asked again and I was still silent.

"She's dead." I said simply and went back to sharpening my knives. I knew it confused him. His silence said it all. He wouldn't know what I meant, I didn't expect him too. He's still young and innocent and hadn't gone through what I have.

"What do you mean 'she's dead'? Clearly, you're alive. You're sharpening knives right now, she's alive." He told me and I continued. "What? Are you just going to stop talking to me now?"

"She's dead." I repeated a little harsher and then took a deep breath. "Go to bed Ashton." I said and eyed my knife, running my thumb softly and slowly against the edge of the blade.

"You'll get h... urt." He said, pausing before he finished the word. I looked at my thumb as crimson red blood seeped out of it and I set the knife down on the table before wiping my thumb on my jeans and going back to sharpening.

"What the hell? Are psychotic Agent B? You just hurt yourself! Come here so I can bandage it! What if it gets infected? You know there is metal flakes from sharpening it still left on it! It'll get infected." He claimed and I stopped what I was doing.

I stood up and grabbed his arm, pressing the flat edge of the knife against his throat after he tried to grab me. His bare back pressed against my clothed body and I lowered my voice by a few octaves.

"Go. To. Bed."

It came out low and threateningly, and if he wasn't afraid from the knife against his throat, he was afraid of how malicious I sounded. He shook slightly in my grip and he grabbed my wrist, unable to push it away from him. Unable to free himself from my arms.

"F-Fine." He stuttered out and I let go of him. He looked at me and held his neck, checking to make sure there was no cut, no blood. "What's wrong with you? I just wanted to help you. You hurt yourself." He claimed as he fisted his hand around his neck a bit.

I narrowed my eyes at him and pointed my finger upstairs. He glanced at my injured finger and then he clenched his jaw before walking upstairs.

I waited until I heard his door shut and I set my knife down before walking towards their kitchen. I ran my thumb under some cold faucet water and then grabbed a napkin, wiping away the blood and then throwing it away.