𝙍𝘾|18+ "ʏᴏᴜ'ʀᴇ ᴍɪɴᴇ," he grinned, darting out his tongue to lick her bare thigh, nipping the delicate skin as if he was claiming her as his. "I-I fucking hate you," she whimpered, tipping her head back to rest on the shattered mirror, his hand com...
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˜"*°•.˜"*°• chapter 4 •°*"˜.•°*"˜
❝ TW: Talks of eating disorder❞
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***
"I'm a bitch regardless"
Lydia didn't know where her little legs had led her, but she knew it was nowhere near figure eight. Perfectly clipped hedges were switched for overgrown bushes and perfectly paved roads were switched for misshapen heaps of rubble. The only key difference was that it was quiet, peaceful. Almost tranquil.
Maybe she liked the imperfections.
The wind blew roughly, hands of air wrenching her chestnut hair in the wind. It was her sign to seek shelter. Maybe it was the aftermath of hurricane Agatha, she though to herself idly. Inwardly, she gave the tropical storm the middle finger. Fucking Outer Banks weather.
All of a sudden, a downpour of rain fell from the heavens - a crack of thunder breaking the once peaceful sky. Lydia gasped indignantly as heavy droplets drenched her. It was all she could do not to scream - today was not fucking going well, to say the least.
She frantically searched for somewhere to take cover, eyes darting around the sodden landscape. Up ahead was a small shop by the bay, long wooden frames supporting an elongated tin roof - which seemed stable, if only for the minute. Pictures of different types of fish were plastered to the sandstone wall, making the girl realise it was actually a seafood shop.
"Alright," She warily strode up the the building, trying to muster up some familiar courage. Wait, why was she so nervous? Fiddling with her fingers, she murmured to herself. "Just walk up to the door and knock. It's not that difficult." She brushed off, convincing herself it was the easiest of tasks to accomplish.
