Sold To The Gangleader

Chapter 33

Layla's POV

"Layla." I hear Donald's soft voice.

"Yes?" I croak out, my throat extremely dry.

"Foods ready."

"Wait." I stare at the mirror with a brush in my hand. I have deep eye bags that are big enough to store groceries and my skin is extremely pale- both from lack of sleep.

I squeeze the foundation on to my hand and quickly brush it on to my face. Ugh. I'm only wearing this so Donald and them don't ask questions. Yes. that's how bad my skin is looking right now.

I've been a mess since I saw Jack and it's only been five days. Gosh I'm getting so weak. Wish I could turn back time to the good old days, when my mama- hit me and I never gave a bloomin ish!

A minute later Donald grows impatient and starts knocking on the door.

"One minute." I quickly finish blending and put on red lipstick.

I tie my hair up in a messy bun and quickly scurry to the door and unlock it.

Just when I'm about to open it-Donald opens it and I stumble a little.

He's wearing his wooly hoodie the one I stole from him. Huh. Since when did I give him permission to take it back? Guess I'll have to steal it again.

His blonde hair is messy like usual and his hands are stuffed in his hoodie pocket. When his eyes meet mine, he raises a brow, scanning my face. "I thought you hated makeup."

I break eye contact and shrug. "I like it." My voice comes out raspy and I quickly clear my throat.

"Is it because of Jack?" He suddenly asks. I snap my eyes back to him, furrowing my brows.

What?

"I know how bad you took it when he broke up with you and-"

"No, it isn't that." I glare at him.
"That doesn't even make sense. Wearing makeup because-"

He tilts his head before cutting me off. "Maybe you want to win him back or something, but wearing makeup-"

"No." I cut him off, flatly. Blinking, I shake my head- just the thought of me like that makes me cringe.

"I'm not that desperate Donald." I continue to glare at him. "I can't believe you'd think of me like that, you know me better."

He sighs, rolling his eyes. "Alright, I'm sorry, but it's weird seeing you wear makeup, you've always hated it." He takes his hands out of his pocket still staring at me, shaking his head, he then grumbles "Let's go."

Both of us then walk downstairs, silently, both of us in our own little bubble.

When we reach down, we're greeted by Donald's mum. "Hey sweetheart." Mrs Hickman greets me, with a soft smile in which I return.

"I've made you some food." She points at the table that's so full you'd think she's feeding twelve people.

I scratch my head looking at all the food. I'm really not that hungry today.

I feel both Donald and his mother staring and I let out an exasperated sigh, before taking my seat.

I grab the yellow mug with both hands and start sipping on it.

Mrs Hickman walks back into the kitchen while I still feel Donald's intense gaze on me.

He then takes a seat next to me, still watching me and I begin to shift uncomfortably.