Wicked (I Know I'm Bad Sequel)

Wicked: The Art of Being Broken... And Sold.

     Ta-da! So... read this first. You just have to know that I never proof read anymore. And this chapter is dedicated to all who commented at the last chapter. But particularly to ThatTrixieGurl because she said I was gorgeous (HAHAHA) and to JessicaMartinez because she's part of the Adam's Fan club like me! Hohoho. Anyway, enjoy! 

      The song by the side, How could you say you love me, is pretty much how shitty Louise feels.

     So, please move your gazes at the side and see how Damon looked in this chapter. Thank you.

     Carry on little geek monsters. 

      x Princess

      One look. Just one look. And all the strength, the faculty to bury down everything somewhere in a safe box, came crumbling down to bits and pieces that were the fragments of my heart. I had thought that I had built a thick, impenetrable to hurt wall that could protect myself from being once again shattered, but only now had I realized it was impossible. Not with those eyes. No, not with him.

      My heart pounded against the wall of my chest I could feel it hammering louder and louder as he stepped further into the vivid stage, my ears had grown fully aware of the clandestine thumping. My legs were dead, and so were my hands, and as I looked down to check if they were still attached to my tiny body, I found them quivering so badly.

      Another hole – a huge puncture that cut so deeply – had been punched straight through my fast beating heart. There was a sudden run of cold down my spine and I shuddered desperately, I cannot let anyone see me like this. But I was too late and defenseless.

      A pair of hands appeared on top of mine, clutching them with ever gentleness and warmth. And the only thing that pulled me back to reality was Adam's molten chocolaty eyes. He had only one thing to say.

      "I didn't know." He whispered.

      I looked down again, unable to find Sam's stare on the other side of the table for I was afraid it would pull me into a state I can never stand up from, and closed my fist tightly my nails were digging on my palm. Adam slotted his hands in one of mine and squeezed it softly – a small gesture he usually does instead of verbally speaking out the words: 'Everything's gonna be okay'. I brought my gaze up and there he was, with his usual blasé glory, sporting a shorter and cleaner cut and a smile so bright intended for the audience.

      Then he caught my gaze – my prolonged stare that I didn't even mean. Blue eyes to hazel ones. Impassive to retreating. Like the one in my dream, but not entirely. In there, he cared. His eyes truthfully spoke for his heart. He hid nothing and showed everything. His feeling of joy for having me back. His desire for me. And the unrelenting hurt to see me not destined to be his. This was different. His eyes... they were like a robot's. Heartless. His face bore no emotion, giving nothing away, while mine probably screamed broken in every direction. I'd give everything to know what he was thinking at this very moment, looking at me, staring me straight in the eyes. Does he feel shattered like I do? Was he even affected by my presence? Of course not. He would've already hyperventilated like you had if he was.

      I was entirely left in trepidation. How could this even happen? Of all the places, of all the beaches, of all the countries... not even close to coincidence whatever this was.

      Adam squeezed my hand harder, gaining my attention, away from him, from his cold, offending azure gaze.

      "Are you okay?" asked Adam.

      I released a small heave of air and managed a soft smile. "Of course."

      His brows furrowed. "Are you certain?"