The Badboy Next Door #badboy #romance #teen fiction #forbidden #love

16- Survivor

Brynn bit her lip as she pulled her fingers through her braids, slowly undoing them and letting her hair fall in wavy grey locks around her shoulders.

She was just as dumbfounded as me. What could I possibly tell Kyan? What would be a good enough excuse to not have to go, ever? Maybe I get sick? Or maybe someone else does? A made-up tragedy? How far am I willing to lie to Kyan to keep him from finding out the truth? How many more crazy ideas like this will he come up with?

"Brynn! Naomi! Dinner!" my mom calls to us. I give Brynn one last look as I push off from the doorway as I walk over to my door. Pulling it open I walk down the stairs as I feel a weight fall on my shoulders. My head spun slightly as I stepped off the last stair. Rounding my body around the wall I make a left into the kitchen.

"Can you set the table please?" my mom asked as she pulled a pot roast out of the oven. I smiled at her and nodded my head as I walked over to near the fridge. I opened a cabinet and pulled out a stack of plates as I turned around and made my way to the dining room. The smell of the pot roast made my mouth water as I walked passed it.

I almost made it through the doorway into the dining room when Paul rounded the corner. I took an immediate step back and steadied the plates I held in my hands. He looked at me with a hard glaze in his eyes, that made me feel smaller and smaller the longer he looked at me.

I smiled weakly "I'm sorry." I whimpered as I made my way passed him. I barely stepped passed the threshold before he spoke.

"Wait." He said sternly sending shivers down my spine "Come here." I gulped down the rising lump in my throat as I slowly turned back to him. His read hair looked like fire on his head as he loomed over me.

He looked at me for only a moment, before his hand gripped my forearm a she pulled me harshly into him. My body slammed hard into his, as I tried to once again, steady the plates I now held in one hand. He held my right wrist in his left hand, raised almost above my head as my body was uncomfortably close to his.

I felt his head lower and the hair tingle on the top of my head as he pressed his nose to my hair. He inhaled deeply through his nose as his grip tightened around my wrist.

"Paul?" my mother asked timidly.

"What is that?" Paul asked between his teeth. My entire body started to shake in his grip as I swallowed again.

"What is what?" I asked my voice confused and shaking.

And like that, in the blink of an eye, Paul had jerked my wrist to the left, the force and momentum causing my body to slam into the wall, and plates to come crashing down, breaking into shards on the floor. The wind was knocked out of my lungs as my back connected with the wall and my head slammed back. For a short moment, I couldn't breathe.

Paul still gripped my wrist, but now he held it over my head. His face was only inches from mine, and I could see the fire crackling in his forest green eyes.

"Do I smell smoke?" he asked his lips pulling over themselves, into a snarl like a Pitbull.

"What-?" I am cut off by his fist slamming into the wall next to my face, my entire body jolts with fear.

"Have you been smoking?" his grip tightens once again on my wrist and I can feel my skin wrinkle "Have I raised you to be some stoner? Is this how you repay me?"

My mouth falls open as I groan in pain and agony as my mind forces words out of my mouth "No. I don't... smoke." I croak out.

He grabs my shirt in his fist and slams me against the wall once more "Oh?" he asks "Well I suppose you don't lie either, huh? You're just a perfect little angel." He growls as spittle hits my face. His breath reeks of alcohol. He releases my shirt as his fist raises to my head and grips around a chunk of my hair. He pulls hard, lifting his fist in the air, I try to stand up on my toes, to lessen the pain shooting through my head. I felt like a puppet and Paul was the Puppet Master.