Chapter 7_just like your mother

As immediate as John's Porsche left my apartment complex, I looked sideways making sure that no one saw us. The last thing I wanted was to be on the neighborhood rumor mill which mostly revolved around Uncle Mike and his drunk ways.

Taking a breath of fresh air, I entered the building. The lights once more cut due to the overdue bills, I climbed the stairs slowly feeling the weight of all that ice cream take a toll on my body.

What if I did get fat? That would definitely be a good thing because who was I kidding I was a little malnourished.

Getting to my door, I searched for the keys in my bag heaving a sigh when my fingers came into contact with the sharp pieces of metals.

I searched for the light switch grateful that Uncle Mike was fast asleep or was he?

"Who was that?"

The sound came from the farthest corner of my shabby living room.

From the tone of it and the fresh smell of stinky beer I knew he was drunk.

"Just a friend,"I said quietly switching on the lights and throwing my bag on the couch.

"Well he seemed more than that. I mean you even have his coat with you. Did things get that wild?"

I hated his tone of voice. I hated that once more within a day another man had managed to degrade me.

"I just said he was a friend. Why would you assume that I slept with him?" I half screamed. I was so close to releasing what I felt inside. I wanted to scream, cry release everything I had held up for too long.

"Don't you dare use that tone with me, missy! You are just like your mother! You are going down the same path as she did!" He practically spit that on my face and I having no ounce to take it any longer, I burst out,

"What path is that? What freaking path is that? I have lived with your taunts for so long, I have endured your bullshit for so long but I'll never endure you speaking ill of my mother. She was far more kind than you ever were. You? You of all people shouldn't be the one to talk. I wish they were alive...I wish I didn't have to deal with your perverted attitude towards me...hell I wish you never were my family!"

I lashed out and in one swift move, he had already left a hefty blow on my cheek that made me lunge to the floor. Oggie barked, my head spinned, I couldn't hear a thing.

Uncle Mike shouted and with every outburst came another blow to my ribs that I didn't have it in me to fight. Instead like a shriveled weed I lay on my favorite living room rug giving in to the darkness that called me in.

My eyes fluttered open and the sharp pain on my ribs came as fast as I could say the word go. I felt like a snow plow had ran me over and left me for dead.

My eyes adjusted to the serene surrounding, my hands clutch the white duvet into fists. Having no energy whatsoever I let my back lay against the headboard of the king sized bed I was on.

I looked at the larvae lamp that surprisingly matched with the hazel walls of the room. Everything seemed in order. The big closet afar from the bed, the L couch pure white like the sheets on the bed and the glass windows which hopefully led to the balcony clean as ever. It even surprised me that there was a mini library in the room.

Getting confused the more, I scanned the paintings one by one. The painting on the right wall sought of freaked me out. It was like two eyes staring back at you in the middle of all the bashful colors.

Raising my head to stare at the bigger painting above the bed, the one person I least expected reared his ugly head. Even from the picture, he still looked good.

I mean too good. The son of a bastard probably thought of himself as God with the whole live lion standing next to him.

How in the hell did I get to Niklaus Rogers room much less his house?

Setting aside the covers from my legs, I turned slightly with the motive of getting out of his home as fast as I could.

My feet finally touching the soft beige rug, I bit my bottom lip feeling the pain in my ribs intensify.

Suddenly the door opened and the devil himself appeared.

"Where do you think you are going?"

He asked leaning against the door frame with a worried expression.

The last thing I needed was that, that pitiful look on his face. Reality had kicked in that my uncle went a little far, that I might have caused him to do what he did.

I stayed mute clinging to the small counter aside the bed for support. God! It so freaking hurt.

I felt like falling where I stood. Scratch that, I was going to fall where I stood and before I did so, a pair of strong muscular arms wrapped around my waist.

"Easy there, tiger"

Having his fingers on my body practically made the butterflies in my stomach awake, sensitive and whatever rubbish I read on novels about them somersaulting.

This was bad.


Why did I want to entangle my hands on his neck? Why was he being so nice? The last time I checked he was the biggest asshole in the world.

And yet here I was, on his bed, ogling at his ripped muscles and how good the white t-shirt fitted him.

"Aren't you gonna say anything?"

The look on his face had me fooled. The way he sat next to the edge of the bed while staring at me had me confused.

"Home. I want to go home"

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