A hug is like a boomerang - you get it back right away.


When the dark

Of the night comes around.

That's the time,

That the animal comes alive.

Looking for

Something wild.

And now we lookin' like pimps

In my gold Trans-Am.

Got a water bottle full of whiskey

In my handbag.

Got my drunk text on

I'll regret it in the mornin'

Chapter 11

"Calm down, be a man." Clay grumbled and then started to pat me on the back while I choked on my ear-piercing scream. I wasn't expecting the sound to bounce off the walls like it had. My own scream had me covering my ears while I commenced to choke into oblivion.

Once my gagging was under control, Clay's pat on my back turned into a gentle caress. I was too stunned to talk as I felt sparks scatter along my skin and shivers trail down my spine. But suddenly the silence around us became unbearably noticeable, and it felt like the temperature was rapidly increasing.

Resist, Clay. Resist him!

The command repeated in my mind like a mantra as he continued to rub my back as if I was still coughing up a bird.

Coming to my senses, I stood up and then walked over to a nearby couch. I took a look around the room while trying to gain back my composure and calmed my breathing.

The room was head to toe in red and pink furnishings and decorations. The bed resembled the shape of a heart, covered in crimson red sheets that looked similar to the beige silk blankets in our room. The carpeted floors were a pale rose pink that matched the curtains that hung from the windows, floor to ceiling.

I was sitting on a white love seat that was littered with red and pink pillows pushed up against a wall that hung another huge portrait of Thatcher, as he looked down on us, analyzing our predicament and frowning upon us.

God those portraits were everywhere!

Although most of the rooms in the mansion were as huge as the entire floor plan of my house, this room felt snug which gave me a sense of calm with the addition of the soft music playing through the room. The sound of smooth-playing trumpets and jazz allowed me to relax into the squeaky cushions of the couch.

I felt a sink next to me and let out a loud groan, "Go away Clay."

"You really don't want me to," he replied cockily.

I shook my head at him and tried to ignore the ache on my forehead. Clay reached out and swiped a bit of blood away, the drip was close enough to the wound for me to wince, but he only smiled at me.

"It's not that bad."

He got up from his seat to go into what I assumed to be the bathroom. I proved to be right when the door opened to reveal a bathroom similar to ours, but from my view I could telll that the only difference  was the jacuzzi sitting to the far side of the large room, the water bubbling while lights flickered under it's depths.

"Cool." Clay smirked while getting a towel to clean my forehead I suppose. I hear the water running from the sink and then heard a couple of cabinets opening and closing until he finally arrived with a damp towel and first aid kit.

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