I pull the coffee tray back to my lap and hold it tightly, pressing my anger into it.
My fear race back shimmering along with oppressing anger. A wave of cold run down my spine like scurrying water slumping the rock on a crack of dawn. I scrunch my lips close, pouting at the edge of pique.
She lied.
She lied to me and I'm not safe.
Those words spangle in my brain shelter a race of both fright and rage. I can't stop shaking my hands and legs, as a matter of fact, my whole body.
"You okay?" She pumps.
I force a look at her and send her a glare, cold unforgiving look.
"Hey, what's it?"
She matches up to me and perches next to me on the couch, her soft hand touches my shoulder. I swivel aside to get a clear view of her, her eyes are gentle and mild, giving assurance of no evil whereas there is the real evil. I scoff, turning away from her, I direct my look on the bright side, the bed.
