lemon flavoured

ｆｏｕｒ

Her foot tapped impatiently on the carpeted floor as she leant back on the chair, staring blankly at a pencil that wasn't parallel to the others.

She wanted to melt and sink through the floors, anything to get away from this place. The window looked out into the outside eating area, making her stomach do flips at the thought of some random students in their break thinking that there was something wrong with her.

Just outside the window was a wasps nest, the black and yellow killer insects flying freely in and out of their abode.

The wooden table was chipped and grimy in places, the stationary following no visible pattern - looking as if she just got a bunch of random pens and placed them in the container. The chair that she sat on had an uneven leg and made her continuously rock back and forth. The room smelt heavily of antiseptic, and all she wanted to do was cover her nose and cough violently. The psychologist stunk of lavender, an unpleasant smell that Angel had learnt to hate.

"So Angel, how are you feeling?" The lady with half-moon glasses looked up from her notepad and at the girl across from her.

Angel remained silent, arms crossed as she continued to stare at the pencil.

All year, Angel had been adamant about not speaking to her psychologist, she hated the old wench with a passion.

Always trying to get into her head. Always trying to go where she wasn't welcomed.

Just shoot her, the voices spoke in unison.

Angel's hand twitched.

You know you can do it.

No, she wouldn't do that, what would her parents think?

Truthfully, they wouldn't really care, but she needed to convince the voices in her head.

No one knew about them, but they had begun to make an appearance after the night in the alley, they would come up whenever she felt negative emotions.

"Angel, you haven't spoken to me in ages, I'm just trying to help you." The woman sighed and placed her notepad down, "I know it's hard, but in order to fix you, you need to let me in."

Angel snapped, shooting up as she glared venomously at the old woman. "I don't need to be fixed."

"No, no you don't, I made a poor choice of words, but please, you need to talk to me." She didn't show it, but she had begun to get excited as those were the first words spoken to her by Angel in a while.

"I don't need to do anything." Picking up her bag, Angel left the room, slamming the door behind her.

Her hands were shaking, itching to hurt something, someone.

But she had an image to uphold - especially in a school full of petty gossipers that had nothing better to do.

A freshman walked by her and the voices screamed.

Shoot her! Kill her!

Angel shook her head violently, trying to get the voices out as she began to walk aimlessly through the halls, eyes focusing on her two feet as they began to go faster. She wanted to run away from them - the incessant screaming voices that called for violence.

They cried for justice for the wrong done to a small girl. But they wanted to punish innocent people for the actions of a guilty man.

Her breathing quickened as her hands closed into tight fists, nails beginning to cut the palms of her hands. The voices were getting louder and more persistent, so she had to close her eyes so that she wouldn't lock onto a target.

Running with your eyes closed is never a good idea.

Angel bumped into a wall, a warm wall. Her eyes shot open as she fell back, expecting to fall onto the tiled floor.

But two large hands secured themselves on her back as the body flipped their positions - him on the floor and her on him.

The voices pacified, going away - for now.

She looked up into cerulean blue eyes that looked back at her brown eyes.

"Princess?" He kept her on his lap but sat them both up.

"Sylas," she sighed in relief as she flung her arms around his neck, burying her face in his chest as she inhaled his calming scent.

She had chaos within her, storms raging in her mind, but he was her peace. He calmed the chaos and stilled the storms.

"You're meant to be in the office." He held her face and scanned it, noticing the red eyes and wet cheeks.

He wiped the tears away and kissed the top of her head.

"I don't want to go anymore." Angel's voice was small as she held his wrists.

"Princess, you'll have to talk to your mum about that." Sylas sighed and stood, lifting her up so that her legs were wrapped around his waist as she sat on his hip.

Sighing, Angel agreed.

There was a comfortable silence before Angel spoke up. "So, thoughts on River?"

Sylas' grip on her tightened, jaw clenching as he frowned.

"I don't like him." Angel nodded, she took his opinion very seriously, because he wasn't just her best friend, he was her protector.

Sylas led her to his car and placed her in before he himself went to the driver's seat. She felt nice in his car, it was full of the smell of him, gunpowder and mint.

"We're going to the cells now, right?" Angel's foot was tapping on the floor.

"Are you ok with going?" Sylas wanted to double-check to make sure that she was in the right mindset to go.

"Yeah," she paused before continuing, "it's calming."

Sylas' eyebrows rose - not out of judgement, but of surprise.

He supposed he shouldn't have been that surprised, there would be apart of her that still craved for the blood of those that had wronged her, or even settle for those who did similar things.

"Here," Sylas reached down and passed her another pack of red frogs, eliciting a wide, giddy grin from her.