My Badboy Fairytale {Justin Bieber} [Sequel to He's Just...Different]

Chapter 17 - 'A Preposition from the Devil'

Chapter Seventeen 

- Justin's POV -

My hand gripped the phone hard, to say the least. Although my body was froze at the sound of his voice, my mind was racing. I felt my anger starting to surface. 

"You are a dumb bastard you know that?" 

"What the fuck do you want?" I seethed through my teeth. I heard the security guard cough at my choice of words. 

"I have a preposition for you," his voice was filled amusement, as if he knew something I didn't. I felt my jaw naturally clench. I did not want to here what he had to say. I was tempted to hang up but he started to talk again. 

"I know you don't want to be there Justin," he sounded, if I dare say it, calm. He was never like that. 

"What's your damn point," I spat my words as I shifted on the hard bed. For once, he was right about something. I did not want to be here. 

"My point is, I can get you out," his voice was still fueled with amusement. He was up to something, I could feel it. But the word out, sounded very promising right now. 

"What makes you think I am going to trust you?" I asked. I noticed the security guard was watching me intently. 

"I am not saying you have too, I'm just saying, I can get you out," he was starting to sound annoyed with me. Once again, his words sounded promising. I cleared my throat. 

"I don't even know my bail yet," I said in a quieter tone. And yet, I don't even know why the fuck I am in here. Yes, I may have beaten the absolute shit out of someone (who deserved it), I just do not understand how the cops have gotten involved. No one was there to call them, unless it was a neighbor... but it seemed like there were no lights on in the whole neighborhood. God-dammit, this is getting more confusing.  

"Exactly, you'll find out, then you'll call me and boom, you're out of that place," he coughed, as is he was smoking something. Probably a Cuban. My eyes traveled all around the cell and landed on the floor. Shivers ran up my arms, damn it's cold. 

"Fine," my mouth was dry as I agreed to his 'preposition'. 

"Good, behave Justin," and with that, the line went dead. I brought the phone to my lap and stared at it. 

"Sir," the guard said through the bars. He motioned me to bring the phone. I got up slowly and gave it to him. He nodded but I didn't do anything. Suddenly he was out of my sight and walking down the hallway. 

Soon after, I felt my blood boil. What. Am. I. Doing? My fist balled up at my sides and I could take it any longer. I brought one up and punched the cold, hard wall. I ignored the pain and did it two more times. I rested my hands and forehead on the wall, trying to calm myself down.