The Criminal and Her Lil Bunny

Her Little bunny

C H A P T E R 1
ᴴᵉʳ ˡᶦᵗᵗˡᵉ ᵇᵘⁿⁿʸ

The mist in the air was prominent, it covered the span of how far the female's pair of eyes could see. It was all across the room, high and low, everywhere around her. Like the web of a spider wrapped around a fly, she felt like she was on her last life, wrapped and unable to get out.

She breathed in another puff of burning marijuana. Her lungs filling with fiery warmth and smoke, before she slowly and sensationally blew it all out.

People would say she was stoned, with the usual tipsy smile on her face and her half lidded brown eyes looking up at the ceiling, but she didn't care if people judged her. At the moment, it was her only way out of reality, and she would take anything to get out of reality.

She was out of it, but not so totally out of it that she didn't realise the boy walking through the room, a little fragile boy, walking through a room filled of druggies, misfits and monsters. He stood out like blooming flower in between dead grass.

That's weird. She thought, before a throaty and stoned laugh left her lips. He doesn't belong here, he'll just get stomped on, poor little thing.

He was a feeble teenager, maybe around seventeen. Hardly even built to take on anyone in this hideout. He didn't even seem to be the type to come around here. He was delicate, a small white rose in between deadly thorns.

His dark brown hair perfectly brushed and almost covered his eyes. His body was tall and slim. She would've guessed his height but she was too stoned to even count her fingers.

He had pink rosy lips, and small bunny teeth. He was clearly uncomfortable, trying not to make eye contact with anyone. At the moment she didn't care that he was uncomfortable, she couldn't keep her eyes off the cute little bunny teeth he had.

Bunny, he's a little bunny. Not just a little rose but a bunny rabbit. She continued to speak in her head, giggling and taking another deep breath in of weed.

She forget she was staring, watching him slip through the crowd and towards a pair of men not far behind her. They were stationed in an ugly, dark corner, and it was definitely fishy.

He stumbled his way towards where she was sitting. But he kept his dark brown eyes on the ground. She was too observed with him to realise. His body timidly swept past the velvet couch the girl was lying on, his neck craned down as he took notice of her through the mist and pumping night-club lights.

She lifted her lips into a huge smile, showing her pearly white teeth, before she blew a puff of smoke in his face. He stumbled on his feet but kept unwavering eye contact as he worriedly nibbled at his bottom lip.

He seemed dazed, and tranquil as he looked down at her. Although he tried to run away from the smoke and evil around him, there was something halting him in the one stop.

"Hello, little bunny." She whispered. Over the music and loud bursts of laughter and yelling, he could hardly hear, but he could read her burgundy red lips, and assumed what she said was "hello,bunny-" it something like that.

He turned a brighter hue of red before breaking eye contact and hurriedly meeting the two men not far away situated in the corner of the room.

The girl with dark red lips frowned. That table in the corner caused problems, not necessarily the table, but the people that sat at it.

They were older, maybe in their late twenties, known to trick youngsters like little bunny into doing jobs for them. The woman was smart enough, even when stoned, to tell that the little bunny needed help, and in return he had to do jobs for these ratty men.

That's a bad thing to get into, helping druggies. Trying to leave what you started results in a blood bath, with those men especially.

She had gotten into far too many problems after she first fell into the dark parts of the city. Men like who little bunny is dealing with, they crashed peoples futures if they pulled you in too far.

Was that why I was here? She giggled to herself, deep in her clouded head. Wait... no... my stories worse...I'm sure it was.

I mean... abuse is kinda bad right? Homelessness? Like what's worse getting into trouble with the druggies or the gangsters?

She was getting higher and higher by the second, but even as she thought about her past, she couldn't look away from her little bunny.

Was that why no one liked sitting on this couch? Knowing I sit here? Knowing I can fuck up anyone that hurts what's mine? She chuckled. She remembers how weak she was after being forced into darkness, now look at her, people were quaking in their boots.

She remembered how weak she once was, stomach empty and head throbbing to find anyone to help, anyone. At the time. Now she's independent and stronger than all the rest that had ever tried to fuck her up. She was the trickster now, not them.

She watched as the boy exchanged words, slowly she watched as more discomfort grew on his face, his eyes widening, his fingers slowly moving to stay hidden in his pockets.

It seemed he didn't want what was happening to continue. The girl lazily stretched out on the couch was fighting with her inner thoughts. Wanting to help. But she knew he needed to figure this out himself.

"I can't do these jobs anymore." The boy nervously sighed, he tried to strengthen his voice but none could do. He was shaking underneath all those clothes.
The first male, a piercing on his tongue and another through his nose, spoke.

His voice was croaky and his breath gruesomely smelt of cigarettes. The boy jerked back at the stench.

"It's too late. We helped you, you help us. That was a deal, kid."

"I've helped you enough." The boy tried to stay stern, but his voice wavered. It made the two men chuckled, as one downed a whole glass of beer in one go.

"Once you help someone like us, you can't ever leave. These people know you now, everyone here. We'll let you go, but just watch out—" the man, covered in the stench of cigarette moved forwards, pulling the boy by his collar.

"—Because there'll be people out there, ready to hurt you. You won't last till wednesday kid."

The boy took an unsteady breath and pulled his body hard enough to get the man to let go, which made the older man growl in annoyance.

"I don't care." He whispered. Before stomping away. He was lying, he was terrified, he was scared, he did care. The girl could see that as he stumbled out of the hideout for croaks, the club down one of the worst streets in Busan.

Jeongguk was finally going to be ripped from his safe,

little,

wealthy,

shell.