Guns and Cigarettes [Levi/Rivaille x OC]

Chapter 15: Troubles in Paradise Pt.2

[DISCLAIMER//TRIGGER WARNING: A LOT OF CUSSING, A LOT OF MEAN/SENSITIVE STUFF REFERENCED, SORRY, KIDS CAN BE CRUEL SOMETIMES.]

Her white pearly teeth gleamed at me in the dark. I could practically see my own reflection on those gnarly canines subjected to layer upon layer of expensive teeth whitening kits.

"Mummy is a lawyer and she will injunct your ass." The words seeped out in her hyena-like voice. Lights from the cars continued clawing onto my skin, interrogating me, daring me to offer the slightest hint of rebellion. Shadows lurked behind her barbie-doll figure. Snickers followed, as if on cue like back-up singers.

Papa is a mob boss and he will fuck you UP.

"Oh, nothing?" That smug grin seemed to rip apart the skin on her face as she sneered, "So I thought. It's not like you have a family who cares enough to bail you out." I stared at that bottomless pit of a hole she called a mouth, and I could hear my dignity screaming for life as it collapsed.

Every fibre of my being cheered for me to fight back. Rip her head off that fat neck. Break her bones with her Gucci bag. Run her over in that Maserati. Fuck her UP.

Yet, I couldn't move. Betrayal was a strange feeling, its presence was enough to curdle your blood, vacuum the air out of you and left a numbing epidemic in your gut. It coursed through my veins, it tainted my origins. I hated it.

Leaves crunched in agony under her heavy weight like bones. She ambled closer, her shadow a giant that casted over me. Those headlights behind her only seemed to amplify her dominance. The pack leader, with others following in suite. Queen Bee. Julius Caesar. Man-eating giants. That adorable Titan plushie Levi smashed past a sheet of glass to claim, inflated. The scene almost looked religious, as if the cars behind her emitted lights of God to smite out the enemy.

God has abandoned me, hasn't he?

My eyes narrowed against her, and as pathetic as it sounds, it was like my only defence against her approaching orbs –like a burglar strolling towards a dark window to be broken. Like interrogation lamps. I could practically hear tumbleweeds as my lilt abandoned me, left me for dead. The gorge of mine constricting, recoiling like a coward, suffocated with humiliation.

My fingers ached, skin tight, screaming to be released. They shrieked in a gospel choir. I hadn't realised my knuckled were as white as the splinters of rays from the stars. I hadn't realised this conversation was already too long, longer than usual before her cheekbones would have crumbled under sheer force of my fist.

Go get a life. All of a sudden, Robert's voice ricocheted in my head. A promise. Go be sociable. Be friendly.

You promised me that. No trouble.

"You're a loser." Her voice rose louder and louder. It drilled into my skin. The words were thrown at my face. My fists hardened, solidified, skin tight with boiling blood threatening to rupture. The attention drawn towards us grew increasingly dense. "You're a fucking loser. You just like to show everyone you save puppies and shit. You want to mask some fucked up daddy issues and show everyone you're a nice, sweet cute power-puff girl. Are you trying so hard to help people to validate yourself?"

You promised, Hazel.

But deep down, buried in the core of my being, I knew it wasn't that.
It sure sounded heroic if I passed this pathetic moment you have to witness as good faith. Then I would be an amazing textbook example of someone who did nothing wrong, who kept promises, who could market off their goodwill and good looks. But promises were never taken seriously anyway. This is the social learning theory taking place.