The Princess of The Ambrose Asylum ( Book 1of 3)

24

swirled the whiskey around my glass, watching the brown liquid toss and turn within the clear container in my hand. I wasn't a big whiskey drinker, never had been. But Dean swore by it, saying it had numbed him and calmed his nerves on more than one occasion. The guy had never steered me wrong before, so once he'd suggested it I accepted it without hesitation.

I sipped on it, my face grimacing as the harsh liquid tumbled around my mouth and slid down my throat. It was strong stuff, unlike anything I'd ever tasted. I immediately out the glass back down on the table in front of me, wishing I'd ordered a glass of wine or a fruity cocktail instead.

I looked around the bar I was currently situated in, wondering if I could be bothered to get up and get a drink I knew I'd like rather than this vile shit Dean had brought for me. My legs didn't feel like moving and I had zero motivation to fetch the drink myself. I wasn't alone here, I'd brought people with me, so my eyes followed a path, assessing where each person was and whether it was worth asking them to get me a drink instead.

Seth was by the jukebox, picking a song, nowhere near the bar. So he was out of the question. Dean and Roman were wracking up balls at the pool table, about to begin a game. No way could I ask them now. Paige and Sasha were beside me, but they were deep in conversation and it would be rude of me to interrupt them to ask for a drink, especially when I had a working pair of legs. So I counted them out. Naomi and Tamina were posing with a few fans who had asked for a photo so there was no way I was asking them, and Barrett, Rusev and Lana were watching some baseball game on the TV.

Only one person was available to fetch me a drink and that person was me. So I'd have to book up my ideas, man up, stop being lazy and simply get up to fetch myself a better drink.

So I cautiously stood from my seat at the table and headed over to the bar, wishing I'd never asked to come here in the first place.

As soon as I saw Styles that night at the arena, I'd gone into full panic mode, knowing that small time period of freedom I'd gained during his suspension was now over and done with. It had come round so quickly, but he was now due back at work, and any distance I'd gained from him had been considerably closed up. He had returned full time now, and I was back to square one, always looking around every corner and making sure I had eyes in the back of my head in case he showed up to make trouble for me.

And he would make trouble for me.

I was the reason behind his suspension, I was the reason he no longer held the Money In The Bank briefcase, I was the reason the fans now hated him and everyone in the back now frowned upon him. And everybody knew that Style's was never the type of guy to take this shit lying down and do nothing about it. He'd want revenge, he'd want vengeance, he'd want to make me pay. He didn't care who I was or who my family was, styles would get payback.

And that terrified me.

He was a mad man, a guy capable of a lot of scary stuff. And whilst I had good friends and a loving family around me to watch out for me, it's not like I could be protected all the time. He'd catch me alone, he'd find me when I had no form of protection, and he'd do whatever the fuck he wanted.

So as soon as I saw him, I'd wanted out, I'd wanted to escape and numb my troubles with the only thing I knew could – alcohol. It hadn't taken me long to convince the girls, the Shield and a few other friends to join me. So as soon as the show had finished we'd come straight to the bar and made the most of what it offered.

But as I sat there, wallowing in self pity, feeling awfully sorry for myself, I realised I couldn't even be bothered to get up for a fucking drink. Aj's return had caught me by surprise and it had totally winded me. It had come so fast that I'd barely had time to make the most of him being away and now it was making me retreat and act like some terrified little mouse.