weapons † hs [two]

bonus: car conception

🚨

Walking down the narrow alleyway, I keep a firm hand over the pistol in my suede coat pocket, the back of my index finger grazing the trigger ever so slightly to ease my internal tension. My left hand resides in my other pocket over my phone, squeezing it just in case as I feel the strange man's presence lingering even closer behind me.

The sun sets far beyond; its pink, purple, and orange glow shines through the tall buildings surrounding me on either side, warming my cheeks, assuring me that I can handle myself despite the underlying feeling that I am too far from society by the pure desolation of the dingy alley in this seemingly abandoned part of town.

His heavy footsteps suddenly grow quiet, the squashing of gravel below his feet nonexistent, and I realized I zoned out, halting my own steps and looking around. What if I lost him? He knows the alley better than I do, and he's followed me long enough.

He's around here somewhere.

"What's a pretty thing like you walkin' around town all by herself?" The man's scratchy voice sounds from behind me and I slowly turn around, intimidated briefly from his buff size and leather jacket façade.

"Just wanting to enjoy the evening," I play along.

He begins to step forward, having me in turn stepping backwards until I bump into the brick wall of some shop behind me, trapped.

"American, huh," he hisses, his dirty fingers laying on my chin. "You're comin' with me."

"Seriously? No way in hell," I counter in a chuckle, relaxed, going as far as raising a brow at his advances. "If that's how you talk to women, you clearly never get any."

He tilts his head, scanning my body up and down while I continue to maintain my cool. "The fuck did you just say?"

"You heard me. I'm not going anywhere with you, creep."

Then he takes his threat a step further, closing the space between us with one step, filling my field of vision as he gets up in my face and wraps a hand around my throat, tight enough to hurt, but still allowing me to breathe.

"S-Stop-"

"If you know what's good for you, shut the fuck up. No one will hear you, bitch," the junkie seethes, and I stare down between our bodies as he presents me with a sharp shiv. "Deny me again, and I'll knock you the fuck out and take you myself, or let you get a taste of this, and there's no one around to save you."

The silver of a blade presents itself at the man's throat from behind, pressing against the skin ever so lightly to grab his attention. My attacker's eyes slowly fall to the blade, hardening as the knife's owner reveals himself in a low growl.

"That's no way to treat a lady- let alone my fucking fiancée."

As the drug addict ready to shiv me furrows his brows, lightens his grip on my neck, and processes the situation, I let out a sigh and gripe at Harry standing behind him. "Ugh! Seriously?! You couldn't have come out here a little earlier?"