Blurring the Lines

Lo Rowan’s crimson painted lips curled down into their usual scowl. She sat alone at the bar of a local nightclub where she spent most nights. As she looked out at the dance floor, she watched him grind his pelvis into the scantily clad Lust whose arms were around his neck. She watched this girl’s fiery eyes burn holes into his icy stare.Their foreheads pressed together, turning Lo’s skin red. Fingers laced, the pair nearly sprinted to the toilets. Lo repeated the phrase in her head that she’d been repeating for years. I don’t need him, I don’t need anyone.

Blood boiling, Lo thought of how it was her that his hand were on not twenty four hours ago. Just last night she was the one he wanted. She knew it was a mistake to get entangled in the likes of a Lust.

Moments later, he emerged from the bathroom, the girl nowhere to be seen. Smirking, he made his way to the bar. His hand grazing the small of her back as he pulled his barstool close to hers. He rested his hand on he knee.

“Need a drink, sweetheart?” he asked.

“I can get one myself,” she spat. His smirk widened into a full smile, his eyes gleaming. He loved bringing out her fatal flaw, her jealousy. He drove her mad, and she had no say in how his actions affected her. He ordered himself a pint as well as a rum and coke for her. “Dax. I said I could get one myself.”

“Ah, but you love when I spoil you.” He was charming enough, but her attitude was not easily changed once he’d gotten a rise out of her.

“Do not.” she grabbed her drink and made her way to the dance floor. Her eyes scanned the crowd, looking for an easy distraction. Soon enough, her gaze met that of her favorite Greed. She made her way over to Nathan, slipping a twenty into his pocket. She laced her fingers with his, leading him to the toilets where Dax had just been with that slut. The two squeezed into a tiny stall where he fumbled around in his pocket until he retrieved a small baggie his identification card. He crushed the powder and formed two fat lines on the toilet seat. He retrieved the bill she had given him earlier, rolling it up, and snorted up his line. She followed suit. She stopped by the mirror on her way out, pulling her eyeliner out of her small clutch. Once she was satisfied with the outcome, she followed Nathan back into the dimly lit dance club.

Pupils dilated, her eyes scanned the crowd once again. Hands over her head, she let the music move her body, unafraid of what anyone would say or think. She was in her element. She didn't mind the hands grabbing at her waist, pulling her closer. She looked over to the bar where Dax watched intently. She didn't see the man she was dancing with. She didn't realize what sort of damage she was causing. She, honestly didn't care, either. If Dax could go and have fun with whoever he wanted, she should be able to as well.

Dax couldn't look away as those hands ran all over her body. Those hands belonging to Arland. It was his turn for blood to boil. He could no longer stand by and watch his arch enemy try and steal his girl. No, that would not do at all. His long strides shook the ground and he stomped over to the pair, maintaining eye contact with Arland as he did so.

"Lo, get out of here." he said, grabbing the young girl's arm forcefully. With time moving more slowly for her than most others in the room, she didn't register what was happening until she had been tossed aside. She followed his orders and left immediately. Only turning around to see Dax and Arland wrestling on the ground.

The air was bitter against her pale white skin, though the drugs pumping through her veins created the illusion of warmth. She made her way back to her flat on her normal route. Anyone would be afraid of the ally she walked, but it was widely known that any sort of dispute with her would end poorly for the opposing party. Her reputation kept her safe, or so she thought.

She heard quiet footsteps behind her, but thought nothing of it. It wasn't until the blunt force hitting the back of her skull that she realized that she was in trouble. By then, though, it was too late. As she laid on the cold hard ground, she watched as the darkness crept over her eyes, leaving her blind before unconscious.

Her attacker, one of Arland's henchmen, wasted no time. He was sent to make sure she was "taken care of" by Arland. He climbed on top of her, hands shaking as he fumbled with the belt on her black low rise jeans. As he shimmied them off of her immobile body, something he never saw coming happened.

Face stinging, he looked up at the man before him that had just punched him square in the jaw. With barely any light, he could tell that this was a Virtue. Expensive cologne and a mop of perfectly manicured curls upon his head, he identified his attacker almost immediately.

"What do you think you're doing, kid? A little far from home, no?"

"Leave her alone." he spat.

"Get out of here, Styles. Wouldn't want Daddy to find out where you are."

"And you wouldn't want my father knowing what you were doing here, would you?"

"Just beat it, kid. This doesn't involve you."

"It does now. Go." He said, shoving his opponent.

"You're asking for this." And with that the brawl began. It went back and forth before one perfectly maneuvered jab that left the poor girl's attacker in the same state as her. The curly haired boy quickly fixed the stranger's pants and picked her up in his arms to carry home. They were but three blocks of his home when she finally came to.

"Who the fuck are you?" She screamed once she realized where she was.

"I'm Harry," he responded. She jumped out of his hold and slapped him across the face.

"Don't you ever fucking touch me again."

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to startle you--"
"You kidnapped me! Oh God, what time is it?"

"I didn't kidnap you, I swear. I saw you in the ally. This guy was on top of you. He- he was going to rape you."

"I can handle myself, thanks." She said before walking away.

"Obviously not," he whispered watching her silhouette fade into the distance.