Novel & Cerita I'm Scared Dont Hug Me

I don't hear the click of heels but the number of footsteps I hear still stirs fear in me. A flashlight shines in my direction and I cower and close my eyes. I know closing my eyes won't defend me from what's about to happen, but it's the only thing keeping me somewhat sane and it's not like I have the strength in me to defend myself. "Over here," a deep male voice yells. Even with my eyes closed, I can tell more lights are shinning in this direction with the brightness that blooms behind my lids. "Find the f-cking lights," that voice orders, "and don't f-cking touch her. Wait for the boss."

The moment she saw me, she shrank back and hid behind him like I was a monster. Harry pulled her close and whispered, "Don't be afraid, Ember. I won't let anyone hurt you." He turned and glared at me with pure hostility. "Victoria, although Ember's a scholarship student sponsored by your family, that doesn't give you the right to bully her." I froze. This was not how things had played out before. Ember lifted her red, swollen hand onto his arm and said carefully, "Harry, please don't blame Ms. Webb. I was born humble, so washing her clothes by hand isn't a big deal."

I hesitated, the words stuck in my throat. “Whatever it is, just say it,” she encouraged, her eyes filled with understanding. “I’m scared,” I finally admitted, my voice trembling. “And I hate that I feel this way. But a lot has happened, and I’m scared to hope.” Isa squeezed my hand again. “It’s okay to be scared. You’ve gone through so much. Just don’t let it consume you.” Smiling at me, she tightened her hand against mine again, giving me the comfort I needed in that moment.

through my determination. She was scared of me. ---

It is written all over my face, isn’t it? I guess it is the corners of my lips betraying me. I have human lips, their expressions are way easier to understand than a duck’s bill after all. Yeah, I admit it, I don’t understand ducks, neither a real life duck or Donald Duck, and... I don’t understand why Jamie is scared of Donald Duck. If you won’t mind telling me, what are you afraid of? Hi, well, I am DONALD DUCK-PHOBIC. PFFFT! HAHAHAHAHAH! OH MY LADY GAGA! Kill me please!

She hiccupped between sobs, clutching onto me as if I was her only lifeline. "Please... don’t leave me alone." Her voice was small, fragile, barely audible beneath the weight of her grief. The words made something inside me stir, and I found myself holding her tighter, as if doing so would somehow chase away the fear that was so clearly swallowing her whole. Her hands shook as they gripped my shirt, as if she couldn’t trust herself to let go. “I’m scared…” she whispered, barely audible. The words stung more than I expected, more than they should’ve. I wasn’t used to this, wasn’t trained to soothe someone’s fear. I couldn’t help but wonder if I was the one who was supposed to be scared—scared

"Okay, okay, easy. I’m just telling you about my favorite event of the day. Relax and keep yourself calm. I’m not sure if you’ll like what I’ll say next…" I think I know what he’ll say. The agency wants me to accept the offer because I’d clearly stated my disgust when it was offered. "Tic wanted you to accept the offer." Tic is short for Terror-In-Closet. The guy that I inadvertently caused a scandalous incident with. I think I’m still absent-minded that I didn’t straighten my facts.

"It’s... it’s causing a lot of anxiety. Like I can’t breathe sometimes, you know?" Dante didn't respond immediately, his gaze shifting slightly as if considering my words carefully. His gaze softened, and after a moment of silence, he simply said, “I get it. Fear makes you hold your breath, but you have to keep breathing anyway.” I paused, his words sinking in, feeling heavier than I expected. "Easier said than done," I murmured, my voice barely above a whisper. "But I’ll try." "Do you need a hug?" he asked softly. I hesitated for just a moment, feeling the weight of everything pressing down on me. Then, without really thinking, I nodded. "Yeah... sure."

Rihanna raised her hand like a student in class. "Larissa, how old are you?" "Seventeen, you?" "Four," "Can I hold you, please?" "No." She deadpanned. "Awwn," Risa awned disappointingly, "but you are so cute," "I am not a squishy toy, young lady, I'm a woman. Big women don't get squishy hugs from people," says the kid who still sleeps while hugging her mother. "And I don't play with strangers. Mommy said beware of strangers. Plus, strangers are unpredictable and covered with germs. What if you haven't washed your hands? What if you smell? What if you're sweaty? No, no touching. I have a phobia of close physical contact… Hey! Do you know what phobia means?"

"I did it. You're really here. Both of you." I hug them, trembling, and I'm terrified to let go.