Picture perfect ~Zaynmalik (completed)

Chapter 25

Fan Fiction - Picture Perfect Chapter Twenty Five

PREVIOUSLY:

"But what are you doing here if you didn't know I was here?"

"I-I came to bail out my ex, Sam."

_____

I got that queasy feeling again. The only feeling I'd been getting here. I felt the eyes of everyone around me burn into my back, their eyes drooping low for more and their tongues holding back the secrets they could become riches off. But everything else was silenced, all I could see was Aubrey's eyes.

She looked at me, her face telling a different story than her heart. Her eyes begged for repentance and forgiveness. They told the truth. But I could see through her that she let go and she wanted no more of me. I could read her lips, so obvious they looked inked with the words of "smooth criminal".

As she asked for more proof as to why I was here, her lips just uttered; no sound. Her pleading and true sorrow meant nothing over the fast clicks and flashes in my mind. The revenge that plotted without haste. My marvelled idea, my source of fuel and satisfaction. You my sister, mean nothing to me. Not yet.

I got up and held her stare in mine; still ignoring her rampage of questions, "have fun, Bre."

* * *

I had arrived at the scene of no cameras or reporters, just a few large men questioning everyone's entry. Everyone's entry except mine. I slowly approached the large men, their gaze held strong into mine.

As my steps grew smaller and their shadows drew over my face they shifted across and left my path towards the large stained glass doors. They unitedly gave me a small nod. Void of one who spoke.

"Ms Beau?" his harsh low voice called.

"Yes?" I answered back unsure of his reason to want my attention.

"We will take care of everything. You need not worry," the man assured.

"Thank you," I mentioned unsurely almost in a question-like tone.

I progressed my way up the stairs, my eyes on every small brooding pace I took. My heart dropped as I progressed up, ironically.

I felt my head jostle into a fall, hit the hard marble floors and my sight become a hazy blur.

* * *

I didn't know how long I was out for. How long I had him panting on me, worried sick as if he cared.

"I think you should still get checked," he said in chaste.

"I'm perfectly fine. I just knocked into something. It's nothing major," I corrected.

"You walked right into me."

"And?"

"You literally came into my way and threw yourself at me."

"That wasn't the case, you're exag-exaggerating."

"Are you drunk?"

"No! Never."

He looked at my suspiciously, staring me up and down.

"Open your mouth," he commanded.

"What? No! Who is it you think you are?"

"What?"

"I don't need you to care of me, I'm sick of your shit."

And again, I picked myself up and walked out. This time it felt easier. Like I wasn't leaving regret behind. Like I didn't hurt myself or let myself dig too deep in the moment.