My Possessive Criminal

Capítulo Cincuenta y Cuatro

Chapter 54

It's been another month, which means two left till Arsen is back.

We tried finding him when we had the chance, but Zero the Poet had lied. And the person he led us to ended up being a cosplayer of Arsen.

Noah beat him until he died. I guess the dude deserved it.

"Ameena!" I call, my toothbrush hanging from my mouth as I fumble with the tube of paste.

God, why do I always get the last bit of it? It's freaking hard trying to squeeze it out with my bare hands!

Rolling her eyes as if knowing what's to come, she peeps through the door, eyeing me with an annoyed expression.

"I didn't do it, Xanny," She replies.

"Whoever did, kill them," I answer her, taking out the toothbrush and pointing it at her accusingly. She just narrows her eyes.

"Get a life!" Jax calls as he passes the bathroom, smirking at Ameena who glares at him.

Once he's gone, I raise an eyebrow at her.

"What?" She asks innocently, which is hard since Ameena has a naturally scary tone of voice.

"Nothing..." I trail off, grinning as I get a pea-sized ball of paste onto my brush.

She's about to open her mouth and deny, when I hold up a finger, stuffing the brush into my mouth and starting to clean my teeth extra slowly. She glares and walks off.

Ameena totally knew what I was talking about.

I rinse out my mouth after finishing and dry myself off...until I get a waft of the smell I've been avoiding like the plague.

Honestly, the whole reason I've been using the shared bathroom in the hallway was so I wouldn't have to go into Arsen's since his smells of him completely, but do I ever get what I want? Nooo.

Sighing and blocking out my toxic thoughts, I walk out, bumping into Ace, who rolls his eyes and turns towards the stairs. I'm about to let him go but then I remember something.

"Ace!" I call, and he freezes, probably because it's the first time I've called him to start a conversation.

"What?" He growls, not turning around to look at me.

"I need to ask you something," I mumble sheepishly, and he finally turns to look at me.

"No, you know what? I'm going to ask you something first, and you're gonna give me an honest fucking answer, got it?" He growls, leaning down and glaring at me.

I bite my tongue from answering, and merely nod instead—I guess my question can wait.

"Did it hurt when he fucking did that?" He asks, pointing to my arm.

I look, realizing I'd forgotten to pull down my sleeve, and the scar swirls around my arm, the puffed-up area staring back at me like a dare, irking me on, waiting to see if I snap.

I just shrug. "Obviously it hurt. Getting a message written onto your arm with a blade isn't exactly comforting massage, is it?"

He narrows his eyes. "Do you know what it fucking means?"

I raise an eyebrow.

This is the most he's spoken to me, ever.

"No, I don't. That's what I wanted to ask you."

His head tilts as he reads it. "The roses have wilted, the violets are dead. The demons run circles, around in my head."

"Well?" I ask when he doesn't answer. The condescending look I get doesn't give me a great vibe.