Forget.

Chapter 3

🍍Sorry guys, my mother is taking away my phone. I won't be posting as much. Sorry.🍍

Lilly's POV.

"Fuck you." I manage to mumble over the loud talking just downstairs.

"Jesus Christ how the hell did he score that much?" I hear Luke announce.

Unexplained clanking that sounds like glass bottles against ceramic rings throughout the house.

"They're drunk. Be careful." Bray's whisper startles me.

I push him back and roll my eyes.

I storm downstairs and am greeted by obnoxiously loud laughing.

"Oh hey! We were talking about you!" Luke exclaims slowly as I step in.

He is slurring, mumbling his words and stumbling over to me.

I almost yell for Bray whom was back upstairs.

But I didn't need him, right?

Luke traps me in his arms clumsily, grabbing my hips roughly.

I curl my arms and shoulders inward, while he wraps his around me tightly.

He is slurring something while making me fall over with him.

He smells completely futile and I gag slightly.

He slaps his hand on the polished counter before falling with me on top.

He quickly flips in air, making his weight and the force land on my shoulders and hips.

I groan quietly, closing my eyes.

"See we all love you. Bray isn't the only one to get you right?" He mumbles before diving into my mouth.

I try desperately to push him away but he continues the sloppy kiss.

He tastes of stingy alcohol, and I despise it completely.

I glance to my left and Erick is passed out, bottle in hand.

When Luke pulls away, he is gasping for air and I am almost in the same state as Erick.

"See? Fucking love you. He shouldn't be fucking you. We should. Bray doesn't deserve you!" He yells into my face, his horrible breath making my eyes water.

"That's enough." I hear Bray gently say.

I sigh of relief as Luke falls to the side.

I regain my composition and wipe off my dress.

"What did I tell you, little lamb? You can't handle yourself here. You need me."

Those damn hypnotic eyes.

"I can handle myself quite well." My voice cracks, betraying me.

I look down to see an unconscious Luke and scoot my foot out from under him.

"Obviously not, doll. You were almost raped by someone you should be calling brethren." He locked his hands behind him.

"I'm not calling him my brother. I'm not calling you my master or any shit like that. It's fucking creepy." I tell him, placing my hands on my hips subtly.

"You will call us anything I want you to. You know we plan on drugging you, correct?"

"Well that's fucking golly!" I exclaim, pacing in a circle with grotesque gestures.

"You are quite literally turning into Dean, darling."

"Well good! I'd rather be him than I! Your not going to drug me, your not going to do a Fucking thing to me except bring me back to the one and only, Dean fucking Ambrose." I sneer.

"I think the alcohol that leaked into your mouth from Luke's slobber is getting you drunk."

He just kept staring.

This man never got upset.

This man never ticked.

"I dont think so. I think im being cynical." I bent forward, whispering to him.

"What must be done to show you your mine?" He questioned, completely exasperated.

"I won't be yours." I whisper harshly.

"Let me make you mine." He growled, launching himself at me.

I sidestep and he runs into the counter.

I laugh gleefully until he pulls out a sleek cutting knife from the drawer.

Maybe he did, in fact, get upset.

Maybe even tick.

Just a little.