The Alpha's Possession

✙ Chapter 20 ✙

"C*ck sucker!" I shouted, leaning over the compartment with my hand clenched into a fist. Then, slipping my fist underneath his arm, I punched him in the stomach. He yelped in pain, jerking the steering wheel to the right, sending us shooting towards the ditch of weeds and decomposing animals. Grabbing onto the door handle, a small scream escaped my lips and I braced myself for the impact of the airbags. But, at the last second, my brother jerked the steering wheel, sending us flying back onto the road. Sucking in a deep breath, I listened to my heart hammering in my chest, gripping the door handle hard enough that my knuckles were white.

He looked at me. "What the hell!? You can't hit the driver! You almost got us killed!" His eyes were narrowed, expressing how serious he was. I bit my bottom lip, realizing it wasn't the smartest idea; he could've swerved the other way into an approaching car. I opened my mouth to apologize, but a smirk stretched onto his face and he spoke, "But, that was a nice punch." He held his hand out and I slapped it proudly with a grin.

For the next five minutes, the two of us listened to music with the windows rolled down, allowing wind to smack into us. My hair whipped my face and after awhile, it became annoying and I pulled it back into a tight ponytail. The music blasted, loud enough that we couldn't hear the sputtering of the engine and my ears started ringing; whenever the beat dropped, I winced, sticking my fingers into my ears. Though, it didn't bother Noah - he was used to the loud music, considering he blasted his music in the back of class, listening to JAY Z rather than his teachers.

Pulling into the driveway, I unbuckled and hopped out of the battered sedan. "Help me with the groceries!" Noah shouted, knowing well enough that I was going to attempt to slip away. I groaned and opened the backseat door, grabbing the nearest sacks of food. Seeing my package of Twinkies in one, my stomach rumbled in hunger - I was going to sneak those up to my bedroom, so I didn't have to share them with my brother. We carried the groceries up the gravel driveway, nudging each other in hope of one of us tripping.

Bursting through the front door, the smell of alcohol and cigarette smoke hung in the air. My brother glanced at me, before continuing towards the kitchen. Before our mother died, the house would've smelled of pumpkin candles; they were lit every morning and burnt throughout the day. Now, it smelled disgusting from my father who was finding a way to relieve the pain and despite my age, sometimes, I snuck some of his beer and cigarettes, heading out to the trees to relax. So far, he hadn't noticed the disappearance of his things and my brother was absolutely clueless.

I followed my brother into the kitchen, placing the sacks of groceries onto the cluttered counter. He started putting away the cold things. From the corner of my eye, I saw him squatting in front of the refrigerator, piling the yogurt on the bottom shelf. I turned towards the sacks, instantly starting at the one with my Twinkies inside. Casting a small glance over my shoulder, I grabbed the box and took a step towards the kitchen table to scramble and hide them until I hurried upstairs, but Noah's voice stopped me. "Put them down."

"Put what down?"

He looked at me. "The Twinkies." His eyes flickered towards the box in my hands and I pouted, realizing I was caught. Reluctantly, I placed the Twinkies back onto the counter and put my hands on my hips.

"How'd you know?" I asked, cocking an eyebrow.

"I'm not an idiot," he responded, turning his attention back to the yogurt. "Now, help me start putting away the groceries." I rolled my eyes and with a frown, started piling the cans of vegetables on the top shelf in the nearest cabinet. This was our routine; every Saturday, the two of us drove to the grocery store on the outskirts of town, buying whatever we needed. We always bought more milk because Noah drank it all, gulping the liquid down from the carton. It was disgusting, though it didn't stop me from using some with my cereal. Suddenly, heavy footsteps ascended towards us and I looked over my shoulder, seeing my father staggering down the steps. Noah straightened up, holding a sack of apples in one hand.