Pretty Girl | lrh ✔️

•She•

"She's ill."

"She looks pretty good to me."

"She's mentally ill, Michael."

Alison curled into herself as she listened.

"She can't stay here any longer."

"She needs me."

"She needs help."

"Don't say that."

"I'll say what I want to," the dark haired boy said. "I don't know what you've gotten yourself into, Mikey."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"She's trouble." he responded. "I don't know who she is, or where she came from, but she's trouble. I'm telling you now."

Alison felt a slight nudge on her leg. She looked up to find Luke staring down at her intently.

"We don't need to listen to this, Ali."

"But I want to."

He sighed.

"I need to talk to you."

Ali quietly scrambled to her feet, knowing that whatever Luke had to say must have been important.

"About what?"

"Not here," he said, holding her by the arm. "They'll hear you whispering."

Alison nodded, following Luke upstairs as she waved a small goodbye to Michael.

He saw her and smiled, his heart fluttering at the innocent girl he'd met in the woods just a few weeks ago.

The girl who'd run away from home because apparently, an intruder had entered their home.

The girl who was still clutching a bloody knife in her hand when he'd told her to calm down.

The girl he found no difficulty in falling for; the girl he protected, and would protect for as long as he had to.

As soon as Alison was in a room alone with Luke, he shut the door.

"I don't like Calum." he told her harshly.

"Who?"

"The asian one," he spat. "I don't like him."

"He's kiwi," Alison mumbled. "Why don't you like him?"

"Don't you see?" he asked her, quickly going to sit opposite her on the bed. "What he's trying to do to us? To you?"

Ali quickly shook her head. "No."

"He's trying to seperate us," Luke urged on. "He's trying to get Michael to turn you in."

"Turn me in? For what?"

"For what you did to Ella," he said smugly. Ali's heart stopped.

"T-that was you-"

"You held the knife. You grabbed her hair. You put the blade to her throat."

"N-no-"

"That was you, pretty girl," Luke hushed. "You, you, you."

"You gave me the knife," Alison cried quietly. "Luke, it was you-"

"Be quiet," he hissed, placing a hand over her mouth. "Whatever happened with Ella doesn't matter now."

She looked at him through glazed eyes. "It doesn't?"

"It doesn't," he replied, stepping away from her. "We can fix this."

"We can?"

"We will," he said firmly. "But pretty girl, you have to do something for me first."

Alison nodded quickly. "Anything, Luke."

He smirked. Then he held up a familiar object.

"We have to get rid of Calum," he told her sternly.

She eyed the knife weakly, it's handle still encrusted in dry blood.

"H-how?"

Luke took her hand in his, opening it up to reveal her small palm.

"The same way we did to Ella, pretty girl."