"Bad Girls don't get what they want,
especially when they don't ask nicely." ____________________________________________
"You have no idea what I am capable of, and I assure you that you will not like it. I suggest you not underestimate me. The sec...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Ariella Diego
Shit! My knee is literally bouncing up and down right under the wooden table and my hands are turning cold and white.
No way!
I could now literally hear nothing except for my mother's screams, my father's hurtful words, the flashes of my mother leaving me behind and my step-mother abusing me mentally. My father hitting me with long thick wooden canes till I could breathe no more. The belt beating marks I have on my back flashing in my mind.
I can't feel anything. My head is covered in cold sweat, but I can't move my hand to wipe it off my face. I want to scream for everyone to shut their mouths up but no words are coming out of my mouth.
God, I don't want to faint here. No, please!
I don't want anyone to see me in this vulnerable position and keeping my cold face now on is making me lose all my strength and ability.
'You don't have any strength. You are weak and pathetic just like your mother was and would always be that weak woman who can do nothing and is dependent on-' my father's voice echoing in my head and makes all my nerves burst out until I felt a hand on my thigh which I instantly knew who it belonged to.
''Ariella?'' he snapped me out of my trance and for a few seconds I couldn't respond. I couldn't bring any words to my mouth. My brain was giving me instruction but my tongue wasn't reciprocating with them. He didn't question me further but started drawing small circles on my inner-mid-thigh which oddly made my breath even. I am feeling better. Yes I can do this. My eyes snapped up to his face when I gained my senses back only to find them staring back at the paparazzi who was now calmed down.
"You are alright, Ariella. Don't panic," his smooth deep voice calmed me down. He was talking to me so softly and the tone he used was nothing but calm and sweet. Him telling me that I am alright was something that helped me get my strength, my power back.
But it shouldn't right? His voice should be irritating me to death not soothing me down. Him having his hand on my thigh should make me hold my knife to his fucking throat..
But I guess you like it where it is! I meant his veiny hands!
No, you whore!
''You know, I have a knife strapped around my waist under my blazer,'' I said, referring to his hand and finally I can speak, despite the headache I have. Finally those ugly flashes are out of my mind. Finally I am back with my damn power to fuck anyone up and smash them under my heels. He turned his greyish blue eyes to me and all his face showed was surprise as if expecting me to talk to him politely.
What did he expect after holding a damn gun to my forehead?
