'No.... No, fuck, don't talk to me, please.' She was whimpering in her head, she couldn't handle that tone in his voice. She had one hand on his head, in the middle of evening out a trim- and that hand trembled violently at his voice.
"Nico." She spoke softly, her voice wavering. She spun the chair around nearly break-neck speed and looked him in the eyes. She felt so fucking broken, she couldn't handle this. Around her neck, the offensively-colored scarf had loosened, exposing bruises and burn marks, and she hadn't noticed. Mark had gotten extremely pissed during one of their arguments and tossed his care about marking women up in obvious places.
"I can't let you talk." She said simply, turning the blow-dryer on him before turning the chair back around and going back to work, pausing every few moments to stop when she started trembling again. It wasn't fair that just his words could make her react so strongly. At one point, she almost broke down, almost gave in. Then closed her mouth again. She finished up the trim and the blow-dry. He looked fine again and she went about cleaning up the mess quickly before bagging everything up again.
What was she going to do? She had to go... and there was no way at this point that she could talk her way out of this one.
"Please. Nico. Forget I exist, I'm just a nobody- you're better off without me." She managed to murmur, her voice trembling as she bit her lip and then left his office as quickly as she could- she didn't want to hear him talk, she couldn't hear him talk, if he talked she'd break.
She rushed out of the building as quickly as her legs could take her, and then started what felt like the longest trek back to the club she had ever taken. Her eyes burned with tears and she couldn't do anything to stop it. It ached to walk away, and she couldn't stop thinking that she could just go back, she could talk to him. They could work this out, they'd be ok...
No, she was trash, she was nobody- every fucking time something good happened, she was dragged back down- hell, she didn't even have her job anymore, her fucking passion was gone- not one bone was thrown to her. Why the fuck did Mark want her so fucking badly, even? Why did he work so fucking hard to keep her in his debt? Maybe he got off on the control. She wouldn't doubt it.
Nico was powerful- he wouldn't let anyone do anything to him, nothing seemed to get to him.
That was it, that was the last straw, a sob ripped away from her as she walked, unable to hold it in. She took a few moments to regain her composure and keep walking, wiping away tears and hopefully fixing her mascara and eyeliner a bit before continuing on.
Getting back into the club, Mark's little group parted around her like the fucking red sea- great. That was a great sign.
"Where. The hell. Were you."
"Would you get it over with and kill me if I said I fucked someone?" She asked bluntly, trying hard to keep up that composure and strength. Suddenly she couldn't take it anymore. She couldn't endure one more night of this bullshit. Either she got out of here or she died trying.
"Natasha." He stated it in warning and she couldn't be bothered to care anymore.
"My name. Is Sasha. Fucking come at me, let's see if you can actually point the gun at me AND shoot the damned thing this time. I'm fucking done. I can't do this anymore. I'm done playing games. I'm sick of this." She snarled darkly, throwing the scarf and jacket off, marks and burns dotted along her arms and back, and she couldn't bother to care about anything else than finally standing the fuck up towards him. At least grow a spine, one more time. The crowd was dispersing around them, moving the hell out of the way. Smart.
That was all the man needed, he came at her and she watched him carefully before attempting to step out of his way His arm swung out and caught her in the neck, gripping at her and she sputtered before swinging her bag of styling good and got him in the back of his head. Got him to let go at the very least. He knocked the bag from her hand but she had the scissors in hand.
"I'm so fucking done, and I am so fucking tired." She explained with a chuckle.
"Go ahead, grab the colt. Cock it. Do it!" She screamed, trembling with rage, and the man went for his office.
"Fucking finally." She muttered, sighing before dropping the scissors and instead picked up the paddle-brush.
"Is this what you fucking want?" He was coming back into the room, and Sasha took a deep breath before swinging her arm over-head, and then released, knocking the man in the head with a damned brush.
"YES. I want this OVER." She roared furiously.
"I swear to god, I'm going to shoot you in the goddamned knee-caps if you keep this u-"
"OH FOR FUCK'S SAKE!" She couldn't care anymore, she just couldn't, she grabbed for the scissors again, brandishing them as a weapon, and sprinted at him. Apparently it was enough to catch him off guard and she was on him in seconds bringing the scissors down on his shoulder, sinking them in deep before prying the gun from his hand, tossing it out of his reach. She grabbed at his throat with one hand, scrabbling to punch him in the face with the other. He managed to push her off and she went for the gun, got to it and held it up in shaking hands, cocking the hammer back, pointing it at him.
"I. Want. To. Leave now. Let me go. Don't follow me. Don't send anyone after me. Your men will see me have dinner with someone else- and they're going to walk away. And leave me alone. You will see me walking down the street- you will move aside, let me pass, and not follow me. I want my life back." She spoke, anger and hurt seeping through every word. She wanted to empty the damned gun into him. The only thing was she was too fucking frazzled to shoot at that moment, shaking and trembling with the weight of what she was doing- facing the biggest fear in her life and risking everything to do it.
"And. I need you to really... Remember this... Don't fuck with a hairdresser's job!" She snarled roughly, firing the gun, aiming for the chest, hitting him in the foot. He was still in pain, still a win, right? He was curled up on the ground and she couldn't do anything else. But she was so fucking scared, even now. She couldn't let go of the gun or say anything, dropping to her knees with the gun shaking in her hands.
"I wish Nico was here." She whimpered weakly. He'd be able to do this right. She knew he would...
Still, everyone was filing out of the room, save for a few- and Mark was cursing on the ground. Every time someone moved, she had the sense to raise the gun towards them, but there was no way she could do anything else. Still, her finger was on the trigger and it was buying time. Time for what, though?