Riptide of Thoughts

Liar

His hand slams against the locker, mere inches away from her head. The sound echoes through the empty hallway. She doesn't even flinch. He smirks and moves in close, close enough to taste her skin and feel the heat radiating off of her.

"Tell me, sweetheart, what do you think of liars?"

His gaze taunts her. He knows how pretty princesses like her react in a situation like this. He expects her to be caught off guard, or at least disgusted, by such a question. He's waiting for her to squirm in discomfort at being put on the spot.

But she doesn't.

"Liars." Her voice is flat. "They think they've got it all, but they couldn't be more wrong."

He scoffs. She was bluffing. How amusing. Too bad her flimsy bravado isn't what he wants. No, he wants her to break like glass.

"Please, how could do you know anything about liars?"

She tilts her head up to look him dead in the eye, her own eyes hard and dull. A ghost of a cold smile flits across the corners of her mouth.

"Because I'm one too."

And she leaves him there without a second glance.