My New Neighbor - Justin Bieber

Chapter 3

"If you knew better, boy, you would do better." - Knew Better/Forever Boy, Ariana Grande

Ariana

I slammed the front door closed, and locked the door as quick as I could. While I was panting uncontrollably, my back slid down the door. The one time I need my family home, they're out grocery shopping. Loud and hard footsteps stepped onto the porch. "OPEN THE FUCKING DOOR!" He screamed, kicking and punching the front door.

"LEAVE ME ALONE, JUSTIN!" I screamed back with hot tears streaming down my cheeks. He abused the door with so much force that it vibrated against my back and made me lean forward a bit. My body was shaking violently and my breathing was getting heavy. All the fear that took over the fibers in my body got worse and worse as each second went by.

Justin kept screaming and kicking the door. "GET OUT HERE." He screamed, breaking the glass on the first door. I screamed, and covered my ears with my knees to my chest. He tried to open the door knob, but failed. For the next few minutes, he kept screaming and trying to break in. Eventually, he gave up.

"You will pay for what you've done. You will pay!" He yelled, his harsh footsteps getting fainter as he walked off my porch. I could hear his front door slam shut, making me jump.

Right then, I collapsed on the ground and lost it.

I had a right to do what I did, it was self defense. According to him, it was attempted murderer.

-an hour ago-

"So tell me about yourself."

After my incident with falling down the stairs, Justin took me into his home to treat my wounds. At first, I wanted him to take me to my house. However, if my parents saw that Justin Bieber was carrying their hurt child, wouldn't you assume that they'd think it was Justin who hurt me? So, that was a bad idea.

Scratch that, it actually would've been better than being at Justin's house. Reality still hasn't hit me yet that i'm inside a criminals' home. Not just any criminal. We're talking about Justin Bieber here. The guy who doesn't think about something before he does it. The man who gets entertainment and satisfaction by hurting other people. The man who has no heart or soul. The man that everyone wants deported and out of here. The man that no prison or facility can hold. The man who is currently treating my ripped open skin with rubbing alcohol.

"Why should I?" I scowled, crossing my arms. He stopped treating my wounds and looked up to give me a glare. "I'm trying to be nice-"

"Yeah, you're not doing a good job of it so far." His grip om my ankle started to tighten. My leg twitched in pain. "Stop that, it hurts."I tried to kick him, but he grabbed my other foot and held a tight grip on that one too.

"You better shut the fuck up unless you want to keep your feet." He spat, tightening the grip even more. I cried out a little at how bad this was hurting.

"Alright, alright! Just stop squeezing my ankles!" I said, and he finally released his grip on my legs. I looked over at them an they were red with his fingerprints. Asshole.

I sighed and sat down on the toilet while Justin continued to dab on the wounds. "Now, tell me about yourself." He demanded sternly. Someone forgot their nap today.

"Ask me questions and I'll answer that, I prefer it that way." He gladly agreed to it. Every time I try to tell someone about myself, sometimes I'm just like 'How the hell do I explain myself?'

"What's your name?"

"Ariana."

"Pretty name." He winked at me. "How old are you?"