I always thought it’d be frightening and a nightmare to have a gun to the head. I never understood how some people found it exciting and thrilling. But after seeing a fight scene with Jacob pulling out his gun, I sort of understood. I see how a person would feel having a gun pointed to the head, making them gasp, hold their breath, beg and pray, then given a chance to live. In a way, it seems to make life more exhilarating when surviving a near death experience. Practically feeling as though you beat death by chance.
I’m not proud of what I suddenly imagined once I saw Jacob pull out his gun, but… when I saw him fight, I saw myself to be the last one standing, then suddenly tripping, landing on my knees. I hear him pull out his gun, placing it against the temple of my head. I glance over at him with a glare, daring him to pull the trigger. He looks at me, cocking his head to the side, exposing his famously sly grin.
His look of amusement annoys me enough to speak. “Do it already. Stop wasting time, you sod.”
“Quite a feisty one now, aren’t you?” He chuckles faintly, pulling back the hammer of the gun, placing his finger on the trigger. “I must say, you have guts to tell me that. Don’t you have any words to plead for your life?”
I look at him with a scoff. “You already killed everyone, so why are you stalling on killing me?” I shake my head with a look of amusement and annoyance.
“You normally kill first and ask later, don’t you? Or do you always leave one to live for the sake of being a ‘legend’? Get over yourself and shoot me already.” I turn my head a little to show my irritation.
Before I know it, I’m pulled up, the gun now placed against my back. He leads me straight to the train, ties me up and pushes me on a sofa.
“What the fuck is your problem?! Why won’t you just finish me already?!” I growl.
Jacob sits across from me, pondering something I can’t tell.
“You have courage,” he spoke. “Why not join my gang?” he questions.
“I’d rather die before joining an idiotic gang like yours!” I respond instantly.
He laughs lightly. “Is there anything that can persuade you otherwise?”
I look at him, annoyed, but in a way, aroused by his famous smirk. I growl, looking away. “Highly doubt it,” I scoff.
“Not even a private ‘training’ session?” He chuckles, looking as though hoping I’d give in. “Don’t lie to me or yourself.” He smirks. “I can tell just by the way you’re looking at me, you happen to… fancy me as I fancy you.”
I close my eyes, groaning, trying to hold the reins of my interest. I look over at him with a glare, putting full denial on his statement. “Don’t flatter yourself,” I growl. “I’d still rather die than join you.”
He huffs, slapping his legs as he stands up, “Fine. It’ll be a pleasure fighting you again, Miss.” He smirks and grabs me, untying and pushing me off the train. “Hope you change your mind next time!” he laughs.
“You fucking coward!” I yell out, annoyed. I groan in irritation then let out a sigh, my heart racing furiously. I close my eyes, letting out a laugh. “Fine, Sir Frye… Fine. Do dare try to succeed next time,” I speak lowly, awaiting to encounter him again as my chest tightens in excitement.
Confession [@mysterous1412]