WITHOUT You [YOONGI] (Book 2)

Chapter 27

"What?" She breathed out in utter disbelief. Whipping her head around, she met the eyes of Park Chanyeol.

He stared back at her. And she searched through those glassy orbs for any sort of denial, explanation even. But there was none.

Her heart dropped.

His expression said it all.

Guilty.

That hard demeanour he tried to put up only exuded the mask of pain he wore. Because behind that deep brown gaze was a tormented man; the internal conflict behind those very eyes almost screaming for her, willing her to hear him out.

But the more she looked at him, the more her blood boiled in fury. Now she understood finally, albeit a bit too late, of his distant, icy behaviour towards her in the past few days. How could he now even look at her sympathetically, pitifully? How dare he even have nerve to be sad for her?

"ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?!" She screamed at him from across the room, to which she only received an expected disappointing, soul crushing silence (again).

The reality sunk in.

A hollow empty feeling sat in her stomach. The feeling of being abandoned and betrayed again crept up to her.

She was alone. And this time, she blamed herself when she laid all of her vulnerabilities on the table for Park Chanyeol to see and he used her for his own gain.

This is what happens when you open up to people.

Tears pricked at the end of her eyes but she quickly blinked them away. The stubborn bone inside her refused to let herself shed even a single tear in front of all these people.

Crying wouldn't help.

So woman up and think of a solution!

As the seconds ticked by, the only thing running through her mind was all the sickening scenarios that this vile Jean Pierre would do to her.

A bead of sweat slid down her forehead as she calculated her options; she could let Jean Pierre take her away and escape later, but that was a huge risk she herself couldn't afford.

He'll have me skinned alive before I could even spell escape.

Or she could try it here. Either way, her chances of survival are zero to none.

One thing's for certain, though. There was no way in hell she would go with this perverted creep willingly without a fight.

And so, without even thinking twice, she used the moves she learnt in self defence and struck her arm into the crook of Jean Pierre's neck. His breath caught in his throat, the harsh blow caught him off guard, temporarily disabling him for a few seconds.

She almost jumped in victory when he actually stumbled a few steps back, giving her chance to dodge around him and dash to the door.

Not that she thought she could beat against 50 odd strong men twice her size, but at least it distracted everyone enough when they began shuffling around to check the pervert was okay.

In the hopes that she could just skip by the door in the midst of the chaos, her hopes crushed as soon as they formed when a hand wrapped its fist around her hair, lurching her back.

A throbbing pain erupted in the back of her head as a clump of her hair was ripped out from its roots. Tears of pain involuntarily rolled down her cheeks like a waterfall and she hated herself for crying when she only promised herself a few seconds ago that she wouldn't.