𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐌𝐄 | 𝐃.𝐌

єιgнту-ѕєνєη

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ʟɪꜱᴛᴇɴ ᴛᴏ ᴍʏ ꜱᴘᴏᴛɪꜰʏ ᴘʟᴀʏʟɪꜱᴛ
ʙʏ ᴋɪʀꜱxᴛʏ. ʟɪɴᴋ ɪꜱ ɪɴ ʙɪᴏ.
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"Thank you," Vienna said through a thick lump in her throat as Owens paid the bartender in notes, her hand around her glass and her fingers on the straw, she turned it, then I've wooshing around.

"My pleasure," Owen's replied with a dreary grin and Vienna ignored it, taking a sip of the Vodka and coke that he had promised her.

They sat in a pub they found on the way back, an old cottage-like house now constructed into a local pub.  The pub was calm but not surprising for a quiet afternoon, Vienna suspected if they were here for longer than an hour they would be met with local riff-raff and day drinkers.

She would want to be gone by then. Drunk men were only a vicious reminder of her father.

"Mhm," Owen's hummed through his mug of coffee, Vienna slide her eyes to him, "I needed this."

"Do funerals bore you that much?" Vienna asked, slightly teasing him. Pulling his strings a little seemed to be the only thing that bought some joy to her. If she couldn't kill him for killing Draco, then she'd annoy him until he died.

"No," he answered, placing his mug down, "but driving for six hours before the sun has fully risen, does. And now just the thought of driving another six hours is tormenting me."

Her head was an evil thing sometimes and she could usually control her tongue. . . but, "Well if you didn't kill Draco you wouldn't have had to drive six hours to attend his funeral."

He hadn't been looking at her, but she was watching him, and even after those words, he never looked at her. She should of, but she didn't regret what she said, if anything she got satisfaction and delight from watching the way his jaw clenched and a tough lump was forced down his throat.

Was it guilt? Either way, it didn't matter. She would never forgive him what he did.

"You know I had no choice," Owens said, his words tight and almost timid. Even the air seemed frigid.

Vienna's eyes looked around the pub, a few men sat at tables and a family on the table by the diamond-patterned window. And the bartender poured a pint for a fellow man. The air was still silent and Vienna's mind wandered into a dangerous place.

What was stopping her from killing him? He deserved it. But there were things she still wanted to be answered. Like who is named "D" in his home? And why does he always seem so secretive?

"Yeah, yeah, so you've said but I find that hard to believe," Vienna uttered, "everyone has a choice."

Still, Owen's never met her eyes. What was he so afraid of? It was starting to annoy her. She took a few more sips of her drink.

"Who were you on the phone to earlier?" Vienna questioned, her tone challenging and daringly intrusive.

Now his eyes met hers, "I wanted to come here to relax, not be met with a million questions."

Now she really was getting aggravated. These questions need answering and if she has to be ruthlessly invasive, then so be it.

"I just went to my boyfriend's funeral and I am on the verge of drinking myself to death," Vienna began, resting the side of her face on her hand, "and I have all these confusing questions in my head that if not answered, I will go insane. You know something and I want you to tell me what."

He only looked at her and she could tell that whatever he was keeping from her was tearing its way out.

"I can't remember who I was on the phone to, it's been a long day," he shook his head, his hands tightening around his mug.

A devious smirk appeared on her lips and an evil glint in her eyes as she said, "It's okay, I can remind you," she leant forward, "who is named "D" in your contacts?"

The silence was thickened. His face drained of colour, as pale as death. He almost seemed like he had died right there and altered into a ghost.

Vienna rose her brows, waiting for a response.

"Who do you think. . . it is?" Owen's asked. Now it was his turn for his voice to sound cold. His turn to lean closer to her, and asked a dangerous question.

She blinked once.

Swollowed hard.

He was right. Who did she think it was? She hadn't dared admitted it to herself or even thought of his name. But deep down a slither of hope lay quietly.

Vienna looked away almost feeling foolish.

She took her glass to her lips and downed the remaining mouthfuls and stood, her bar-stool scratching against the old wood floors, "I'm done. I'll wait in the car for you."

And she walked out, leaving his ruthless question floating in the thick, tense air. She didn't dare look back at Owen's nor did she cares too. She only enjoyed the cold air when it met her, she walked out of the door even though her legs couldn't have moved faster.

She opened the door of the car, got in the back and slammed the door shut. Tears were already cramming her eyes but she would fight a battle before they fell. She wouldn't cry over this. She wasn't even sure why she wanted to cry.

God, she has become weak. Soft. Fragile.

Vienna only had the warming car and lonely silence to keep her company while she waited for owen's. Each second that passed was torture.

She should be stressed about the upcoming exams. She should be deciding what university she wants to go to. She should be getting her life started but instead, she feels tired of life. Drained of all energy.

She once wanted to pass her exams. Only so she could get a good degree and be able to escape from her father. She had already saved up money but now that cash seems worthless. These exams feel pointless and starting a future seems like the most tiring and excruciating thing in the world.

And at that moment, in the warm, lonely car. As the night approached and the moon slowly appeared through clouds, Vienna decided that she didn't wouldn't live with this suffering anymore.

She knew it wouldn't go away.

It was all too much.

So she made a simple promise to herself. . .

Soon.

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