Michael Foster my happened to be father. I watch as he help his daughter—stepdaughter doing her school work in the living room while his wife sit next to him cutting fruits.
"What a happy family picture." I say putting them all into frame of my fingers.
"Brandon, What happened to your hand?"
Tsk. I clack my tongue and walk past them. "Stop right there." Dad Said in his no argument voice but do I care?I twirl and look at his face. "Your mom asked you something."
My jaw clenched.
"It's okay Michael, he must be tired."
"Yes, listen to your smart wife dad." I'm only here because he asked me— forced me to come here. So after laying few minutes in my room when I heard a light knocks on my door I ignored it and pull my phone and scroll.
"Brother are you sleeping?" I heard her voice then her head popped inside.
"Yes, so leave me alone."
"I came to help you." She invites herself in and walk to the bed with a first aid kit in her arm. I sit. She climbed to bed and sit next to me. Then extend her tiny hand towards me. "Your hand."
When I sighed and looked away she grabbed my hand and proceeded to bandage.
"Who bites you? It looks bad."
"A cat."
Her eyes go wide, Mouth hang open. "Cat don't do that!"
"Well this one did."
Bella pouts. Then apply some ointment on my wound. "Why?"
I think back to how she was shivering when I pulled her close, the fear was so obvious her green eyes. "I tried to mess with her."
Bella's head snaps up, she frowns. "You did?"
I nodded.
She nods as if I deserved the bite bandage on it then hop off bed. She bends her fingers and actions for me to bend. I did just to know what she wanted.
Bella pecked my cheek. "Get well soon. Bye I still have lots of homework to do I'll come to check on you later."
The door shut behind her, my fist clenched into a fist, then I stared at the pink rabbit bandage and shake my head.
That little kid does know how to talk.
Later I drive back to the penthouse. It's better to live alone then have to see people crawling around me all the time.
The next morning's ride to school was as peaceful as it could be with having a few hours of sleep, but then I saw that pink ribbon.
Hanging off her long silk hair.
Can you believe that? The only daughter of one of the richest men in the country can't afford a driver for her. I honk and she jumped slightly before she looked over her shoulder.
Her light brown brows connects as she tries to look inside and then continue her walk. Coming to her side I roll the window down. "Good morning baby doll." She stopped and when she looked up I watched her eyes go wide like yesterday and a slight part between her full pink lips.
"Don't call me that." She hissed glaring down.
"Baby doll." Hint of amusement is obvious in my tone.
Her frown deepened, her teeth grinding audibly as she walked with purpose, her annoying Jimmy Choo pink glittering shoes tapping a bit louder on the walkway. I trailed behind, observing her throw a few glares over her shoulder but never pausing until we reached the school gates.
Inside the hallway, I kept a few steps behind her, noticing a subtle change in her posture - stiffer, more alarming than before. It was early, so there weren't many students around, yet I couldn't ignore the looks they threw her way, quickly averting their gaze when our eyes met.
Lost in her phone, she didn't notice the flying object aimed at her head until the last moment. I acted instinctively, grabbing her forearm and pulling her to the side, caught the ball with the other hand.
I gaze down at her quivering face, her eyes fluttering open in shock. Before I can utter a word, my face jerks to the left with the impact of her slap.
Blood rushed through my vines.
I curled my tongue, disregarding her objections, and ushered her into the classroom. Her words faded as adrenaline drowned out sound. Against the door, her body stiffened as my fist halted mere inches from her head.
She flinched.
A shadow cast over her face with fear.
Good.
"You don't get to slap someone and then act like the victim," I said firmly, gripping her hand to make her face me.
Her expressions shifted instantly, turning into anger and intense hatred. "I don't," she retorted sharply, trying to free her hand. "Let go!"
I tighten my hold.
Stepping closer until her cotton of her shirt brushed against jacket. Her breath becomes hollower.
Her pulses rigid under my fingertips.
The anger that boiled inside me wants to snap her delicate wrist right here and now. Imagining her crying helplessly before me fueled my fury further.
mere sight of her is enough to piss me off. Her face twisted painful when I Pressed my fingers into her skin. "Stop it." She hissed. Her voice was shaky at the edge.
She swallowed thickly, her eyes fixed on my face, clutching the cloth tightly against her chest. I released her hand abruptly, stepping back as the bell chimed.
In the next few hours, I tuned out the person at the front, my thoughts consumed by the green-eyed doll.
Honestly, if anyone else had slapped me, they'd be begging for mercy now.
She glanced over her shoulder, our eyes meeting fleetingly before she quickly averted her gaze. It was a subtle acknowledgment, a brief moment of connection amidst the tension.
She shouldn't have looked like that. her delicate features and innocent eyes, shouldn't have shown any vulnerability. But there it was, a crack in her facade, a glimpse of her weakness.
Because now I want to break her. Destroy her being.
Her innocence.
Her vulnerability.
Everything.