Wanted by The Wanted | ✔️

|| FIVE ||

"Here?"

"No!"

"What about here?"

"No!

"Come on! Okay, here?"

"NO!"

I back away from Trent who frowns at me and then glances back at Red who is standing next to the hairstyling supplies. Only my hair isn't about to be styled - it's about to be cut. Red shrugs at him mutely and sips from his mug of black coffee.

"Her hair, her choice," Red says in his I-really-don't-care voice as I look at my hair in the mirror.

It falls to the middle of my back and has never been shorter because I look like a boy when my hair is cut too short. My facial features are unfeminine enough as it is, with my eyelashes which point downwards unless I attack them with eyelash curlers, and my non-existent cheekbones hidden behind the baby fat that I assume will never leave.

"Well, yeah, but her life is kind of on the line! She doesn't have a choice!"

I sigh as I am reminded of my oh-so-convenient predicament. Should I be more scared? Because I feel like I'm more irritated. Perhaps all my fright and tears came out during my first day with these jerks, and now I'm becoming a reckless idiot. I'm an inch away from trusting these people, and I don't want to get any closer.

"Come on, Avyn, if we don't change your appearance, F.U.S.E might be fter you. We're balancing on practically nothing already and I doubt you want to die at the age of sixteen."

"I'm eighteen!" I correct, hands fisting at my sides, "And if you cut my hair I'll practically be a boy! I like being a girl, for your information!"

Trent sighs and sits down on the hotel room floor in front of me, "You see, Avyn, girls have certain parts that men don't that make then female. Didn't you learn that in sex ed?"

My glare turns icier at his condescending tone, "Fuck you."

Soren enters the room, a plastic shopping bag in his grasp. He drops it next to Trent and waves, "Hey."

I nod my head at the bag, "What that?"

"Some girly hair shit, I dunno, Trent told me to buy you crap to convince you to cut your hair," Soren answers, and as I am about to throw back an insult, he continues, "But you should know, I do agree with cutting your hair, it was my idea in the first place. This isn't a game anymore, your life could seriously be on the line - F.U.S.E is one of the only gangs which is threatening to us. As soon as they find out that we have you, and they could have found out already, they'll be after our asses. More specifically, your ass. And as fine as it is, they're going to want to kill you."

My scowl deepens at the raw truth of his words as my fingers fiddle with the pack of cigarettes in my pocket.

"You're going to have to quit, you know."

"If your interior is as attractive at your exterior, you might want to reconsider."

I sigh and remove my hand from my pocket. Damn you, Oscar.

"If it helps, we can dye it first," Trent pipes up, nudging Red who looks up from his phone and reaches into the supplies next to him, fishing out a box of auburn brown hair dye.

Your stubbornness is now risking your own bloody life, woman, get yourself in line, the logical part of me orders. But brown is so not my colour, that's why I dyed it in the first place, I mentally argue back. Yeah? Well red isn't either - stop being so mad at these people who are trying to help you.