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

25

I winced in pain the next day as myself and The Shield made our way to the arena for Smackdown. It felt as if I'd been knocked out or gone ten rounds with Mike Tyson, the pain was so bad. But all I'd done was take a sip of water and allow it to swallow down my throat. The entire action killed, my throat constricted and sore with every movement I took. If water was this bad, I dreaded to think what I'd be like when I swallowed food. I'd skipped breakfast that day in order not to find out.

I'd woken up that morning with an intense pain around my throat, the attack from Styles the night before really taking its toll on my body. He'd really done a number on me, my throat sore and stinging, a massive red hand-print still tattooed on my skin. It looked fucking awful and completely obvious. It was as clear as the nose on my face so I knew I needed some form of cover up so I could hide it from prying eyes. And whilst makeup worked somewhat, it didn't completely hide the bruise that was slowly forming. Thankfully it was late December and wearing a scarf was nothing out of the ordinary, so I'd popped one on, hiding the damage as best as I could.

I didn't want the world knowing what had gone on, and I knew Dean and Styles wouldn't either. Our little problem had been sorted out by Dean last night anyway, but my friend had still been insistent that I tell my daddy , and he'd made his opinion quite clear at the hotel last night.

He had been edgy and twitchy, so I'd made a call to Roman and Seth a few minutes after we arrived back into his room, his friends leaving the bar and quickly joining us. We had given them the lowdown on what happened, neither quite happy with Dean's reckless and violent behaviour, even though both understood his reasons. But the conversation we'd had the previous evening was not one of our best...

"Are you a fucking idiot?" Seth said last night as he paced up and down the room. "Do you know what could happen if he opens his mouth up to shane or Steph?"

"He won't say anything," Dean replied from his seat on the bed, bandaging up his rather red knuckles. "I made myself clear."

I watched them as Roman gently applied some soothing cream to the red mark on my neck, the pain subsiding a little.

"And what if he changes his mind? What if he decides to dump you in the shit and tell them you almost killed him?" Seth asked.

"If he tells his side of the story then I tell mine," Dean said. "If he tells shane or Stephanie  I beat him up, I explain why I did it. Trust me, after the way I left him, Style's  won't be piping up anytime soon. He was petrified, like he was about to piss himself or something."

Seth shook his head in annoyance. "You need to be more careful about what you do, Dean."

"What was I supposed to do?" Dean asked. "Just stand there and them him hurt her?"

"Of course not, but there are better ways of dealing with your problems," Seth replied. "You go too far sometimes."

A growl rumbled from Dean's chest. "He deserved every last fucking punch I gave his ugly-ass face."

"But Dean-"

"Look at her fucking neck," Dean quickly interjected, his hand and arm moving to point at me as Roman applied more cream. "Look at what he's done to her. Do you think he gave a shit when he had his hand around her throat? When he was squeezing it until she almost blacked out? When he had her dangling and fighting for breath?"

Seth sighed, his shoulders dropping as he gazed at my throat, instantly getting the point Dean was trying to make. "No... I guess he didn't."

"Then why should I give a shit about him?" Dean replied. "Why should I give him one ounce of passion or kindness or mercy when he didn't give any to kenz?"