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My newest story! I am only on Wattpad for feedback so if you read it and have any thoughts, good or bad, please let me know! Anyone who comments, I'll read and comment on the newest story of yours in return =]. S'only fair. So yeah, I'd love to progress as a writer, so tell me what you think!
And most importantly, enjoy =].
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"This is your worthy profession?!" I roared, flinging my bag and all its contents into the air in fury. They scattered like pins and rolled to opposite corners of the warehouse floor.
"If I were you, I'd keep your voice down." Came the calm but cutting warning. I took note of this and lowered my voice.
"I thought of you as like, a heroic...a heroic businessman.." What an exaggeration. "And then this! Lying, cheating, fraud, kidnapping...murder!" As I hissed, I began gently kicking any nearby makeup, money, and worthless tat from my bag into a neat heap. I was preparing to run any minute. Not because I was scared; I'd never watched a horror film in my life so horrific slash gory situations and possibilities never entered my mind. But I was too damn nice for my own good, and couldn't hack insulting anybody. There's only so much of my sincerity I can bear projecting to others.
"To succeed in this sort of world, Anna, you must do what is necessary. And the term 'heroic' is not usually associated with men in the business in any case, no matter how well-intentioned or warm-hearted they may be, so that image of me was warped from the start."
I knew he'd pick up on 'heroic'. But I was too furious to even comprehend his responses. I noticed his irritating supercilious tone however, so adopted one to match.
"Don't lie to me, Gray. And let's not pretend I'm stupid. My father was a businessman who succeeded: Fixing computers, not hacking. Not like you, stealing identities, leaving thousands in bankruptcy. My mother sold hospital equipment, unlike you again, who tells perfectly healthy individuals they have three months to live and that they must must buy this shitty piece of kit to stay alive. How about being honest? How about charity runs, fixing up shops in bad areas, giving poor kids a chance, helping the elderly, providing a service to keep parks clean..." Examples were flailing around in my head. I knew I was babbling now. "Look at the opportunities of making money in something that isn't...that isn't...poison."
"I don't appreciate advice from you. And I am ending this conversation."
My fiancée's father stood nine yards away from me, his expression unreadable, his fists clenched.
I squirmed uncomfortably for I knew what I was about to say. "You are a bad person, Gray, and you should be ashamed of yourself. If Jason knew about this, he'd be embarrassed to have a father like you. Do you not even realise the damage you have caused? Of course not, look at you, standing there, as if you are just another average joe. The damn Prada-or-whatever suit gives you away. It's disgusting. What a horrible piece of work you are. I'm sorry, Gray, but I'm going to do what's right. I'm going to leave with you, and you're going to come with me to the police station..."
He had a gun in my mouth before I could even say please.
I hadn't died. I knew that much. But the fact that I was trapped in a hot and suffocating bin bag made me question my vitals. Voices were everywhere, hard male voices. I was petrified. Pushing my arms out as far as they would go to try and rip the bag made me realise that my right arm had snapped at the elbow. God, it hurt. Hot liquid was streaming into my left eye from somewhere on my head. Although I couldn't see a damn thing, I knew that this was a bad situation to be in.
