"I'm sorry I hurt you," Niccolo crooned, his hands clasping over your knee, which oozed blood onto his calloused palm. A long scratch, angry and red, ran from your knee to your ankle. Niccolo had pushed you, hard, against the metal fence that surrounded the car park. And what why? Because you'd ''dared'' to reject his advances. After all, he needed to get your attention one way or another.