I groaned, falling on my bed, without bothering to pull off the sheets or put a shirt on. I glared up at the ceiling angrily, my mind swirling with thoughts, as it followed the blades of the fan in a continuous motion. Eventually the effects became dizzying, and I turned over to my side, letting my mind numb, and unconsciousness gradually take control of my body.
When I finally awoke, daylight was streaming in from the windows, as opposed to the dark night from yesterday. I pushed myself off of the bed swiftly, walking into my closet and grabbing a shirt. I stepped into the bathroom, and picked up my toothbrush tiredly, rubbing it hurriedly across my teeth and gums. I spit out the toothpaste and saliva quickly, wiping my face, and entered my bedroom once again. Taking the shirt I had picked out before off of the counter as I left, I started to slide it over my head.
"Now, don't put your shirt on just because of me," I heard a chuckle from the corner of my room, as I huffed, slipping my shirt on fully.
"I'm not. Bras are uncomfortable," I informed him, which he replied with a smirk.
"Aren't you still wearing your bra?" he cocked an eyebrow, but I just smiled at him. I swiftly unclasped it, letting it fall to the floor, making a small thud.
"Not anymore," I shrugged. He rolled his eyes, stepping forward so he could sit down on my bed. The mattress sank under his weight, squeaking in protest as I joined him. I watched him cautiously, but he seemed to have improved his health significantly, so I let the question pop out of my mouth. "So who shot you?"
"My father had it ordered," he muttered, folding his hand on top of one another.
"Your father?" I asked him, keeping my voice monotonous. He nodded slowly, his shoulders slouching, as if he was Atlas, and the weight of the world was resting upon his shoulders. If he was tricking me, I didn't need him to know that I was onto his ruse. But if his father really did order his only son to get shot, which seemed highly unlikely, but not impossible, I didn't want to seem like a total bitch.
Who tortures an injured person?
Oh, wait. I did. On multiple occasions.
So why was Jax any different?
The plan, I thought, shaking away any doubts of my emotions beginning to cloud my judgement. Thinking that, I decided a friendly offer could help me earn his trust. Before assessing the repercussions properly, the words slipped out of my mouth.
"Do you need a place to lay low?"
YOU ARE READING
Bloody Hearts ✔️
Teen FictionShe's been raised to be heartless. He's been raised to be ruthless. She feels trapped. He feels tied down. She is broken. He is bloody. They aren't perfect. They're beautiful. - - Adrianna has been leading the "Black Cobra" gang since her fa...
