~ "Here's to all the real men out there...Boys play house, Men build homes, Boys shack up, Men get married, Boys make babies, Men raise children, A boy won't raise his own children, A man will raise someone else's, Boys invent excuses for failure, Men produce strategies for success, Boys look for someone to take care of them, Men look for someone to take care of, Boys seek popularity, Men want respect and know how to give it." ~
Deeply sighing as sleep pounded on me, I closed the door and locked it behind me. My weary body fell on the door, sliding down with my hands to my head, and the heaviness of slumber getting to me. Is it possible that I had a bit too much fun than usual with my friends? I felt like I drank 5 bottles of beer and was about to knock out in any second, or went to a party and partied way too hard.
An unfathomable chuckle came from my right side, causing my head to shoot up. The respite feeling effortlessly went away as I moved my body away from the door. Sitting on my couch was no other than Brandon. How did he get into my house? Maybe Hanna let him in or he bribed her to let him in.
A spiteful sigh came as I placed a hand over my heart.
"Brandon, you nearly gave me a heart attack! What are you doing in my household?"
I could feel my tiny heart thump faster than regular. Brandon smirked and got up from the couch.
"Sorry, sweetheart. I didn't mean to scare you." He walked up closer to me, his ego burning up the decency in my house.
Brandon returned the stare as we kept glaring into each other's eyes without him even blinking. I've learned to put up with Brandon and his band members. He forced me to be his girlfriend just so the paparazzi can stop bugging him. I think that's the most pathetic thing anyone could ever do.
I don't know why me, but you can have him. I couldn't care less if he got shot in the head. Okay, maybe that was a bit too much. But, he beats me to a pulp at times. He tried to force me to have sex with him, but I refuse. He locks me in my own house and my dad has no idea, not even Hanna. That was the deal.
"What was your sad little reason for coming here, Brandon? Your fan vase suddenly loosing more interest in you than the new McDonald items?" I pushed him away, crossed my arms, balancing myself on one leg with my other loosely in front of it.
He released his grip around my waist and put his hands into his jean pockets.
"The boys went out with your friends, but I just wanted to stay with you, tonight."
I scoffed, rolling my eyes. "In other words, your friends kidnapped my besties just to ditch you and you had nothing better to do than to bug me to death."
Removing the tight ponytail from its hold, my chocolate brown hair cascaded down my back. That felt so relieving to do. Brandon's staring made me uncomfortable. Did he not have anything else to do than come here? At least watch television or swim in his pool inside his castle or something.
Grabbing my apron that hung from the handle of a cupboard, I placed it on, tying a ribbon behind my back and ready to make myself dinner even if I was out of energy. I was still starving. I was in the mood for spaghetti right about now. That won't take long, will it? I've seen Hanna cook it many times when I was little.
When my fingers touched the handle, the quiet room which was only filled with the noise of the television was replaced with the sound of Brandon's annoying voice.
"Good idea, sweetheart. It's about time you made me dinner." He sighed happily and placed his dirty boots on the coffee table while crossing his arms behind his head. His attention turned back to the television
I growled, my eyebrows twitching together. I heard Brandon laugh at something funny on tv which made me feel more annoyed with him. On second thought, I'll just make myself an omelet. For one. Reaching for a pan to start dinner, Brandon stopped me before I could turn on the stove.
"Never mind about that, sweetheart. You just sit your pretty little ass down on this couch and I'll order pizza. I forgot that your cooking isn't that good."
An idea suddenly popped into my head to grab the frying pan and just use it to smack Brandon's big fat bowling ball head. The apron I had on was removed and hung on to a cupboard handle.
I dumped myself on the couch, sarcastically saying, "Sure, that'll be nice."
Brandon got up just as I was about to slump myself on the couch and picked up the phone, dialing the number to our local pizzeria.
"It'll be ready in 30 seconds rather than 30 minutes." Brandon hung up he phone. Business was sluggish.
"Yo where's your bathroom?" Brandon looked stood up, looking at the staircase behind me.
"My bathroom is upstairs, second door to your left but your bathroom is at the neighbor's fire hydrant like the rest of the dogs."
"Haha! You kill me." Brandon jogged up the staircase, leaving me to wait for the delivery guy. More than 30 seconds had past and the delivery guy hasn't shown up, and neither has Brandon.
Only the sound of the television and the buzzing noise of the AC were in the room with me; or that's what I thought.
A loud crash came from upstairs, making me bolt from the blue. I whipped around from the couch, staring intensely at the shadowy steps, my heart beating as if it was going to pop out of my chest.
"Brandon?" I called out for an answer, but only the silent room seemed to speak to me.
I turned around to face the TV, but surprisingly screamed when I saw the dark figure of Brandon standing in front of me.
"AHHHHHH!"
Brandon let out a dark immature chuckle as I glared at him, hitting his jacket shoulder.
"Brandon, DON'T YOU EVER DO THAT, AGAIN!" Still upset of the heart attack he just about given me, I folded my arms.
He apologized for his sickly behavior. The doorbell rang, signaling for him to get the door while he wasn't sitting.
"Hey, sweetheart. You got this covered?"
I looked up at Brandon in disbelief. He has got to be kidding me. A big time celebrity in a famous boy and doesn't have the money to pay for a pizza? Wow.
There was a playful smirk on his face. Oh, so he was only joking. He turned his back from me. Five dollars were given to the pizza guy as Brandon slammed the door without another word.
The aroma of Hawaiian pizza with extra cheese and meat filled the air as he sat next to me and kissed my cheek again. I twisted my head to Brandon, still in the same mood and position I was earlier.
"Okay, sweetheart. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry...So, I'm going to apologize in an American accent, okay?; I'm going to apologize like a Mexican; I'm going to apologize like a Filip-"
"Okay, I forgive you!"
I laughed at the sound of him failing his attempt to copy accents, and grabbed a slice of pizza. Brandon chuckled, mouth full of pizza, and pecked the side of my face. Turning irritated and grossed out by him, I smacked his arm as Brandon laughed at me.
"Eww! Brandon!"
I wiped away the cheese sauce from my left cheek that was smudged all over me.
"You're being such a child, Brandon. But what am I supposed to suspect from a spoiled best that only got famous along with his friends because of his daddy?"
He grabbed the back of my head, pulling at my hair and pushed me forward to look at him. I let out a small scream as my back bent in an uncomfortable way.
"Don't act like you don't enjoy my company, sweetheart. Every girl would simply die to be with me."
Kicking him in the shins, he let out a grunt and and kneeled down to help his little injured "friend". It took him more than a minute to recover.
"You little bïtch!" Brandon took in deep breaths in and out after to ease his nuisance.
"Do yourself and your little buddy a favor, Brandon and get yourself out of my house." A small victory smirk formed on my lips, my arms crossed.
Brandon let out a groan and approached me, grabbing the collar if my blouse and lifting me up to my tiptoes. He raised his fist at me.
"Why you little-"
His phone rang. Brandon released me and answered the call while I caught my breath. After several minutes, Brandon gave me a sharp stare.
"You're lucky for tonight, sweetheart. The guys just dropped your friends home. I got new plans with them now."
"Thank god. I didn't want to spend another second with you anyways." I pushed myself off the floor and dusted my knees.
A painful kick went into my side, making me scream and fall back down. I bit my lip hard, holding the side of my stomach. This was just one of the many bruises Brandon has given me. It was also a pain for me that my skin was pale and it was hard to cover up the bruises. I had to use a ton loads of make up for the big ones.
"Ungrateful lowlife bitch," Brandon muttered in a low sigh.
He walked further away from me. "Don't think of leaving this house. I'll have a lot of guards surrounding this place 24/7 so they'll be no way of you escaping and leaving to see that pathetic ugly dyke girlfriend of yours!"
I was too weak to say anything back to his face. I stayed there on the ground, holding on to my aching side. Brandon called someone and minutes later, he opened the door. Looking up, still kneeling on the floor, I saw nearly 10 guards in white polo shirts, black slacks and earpieces.
"One of you carry her to her room and whoever the fvck knows how to treat a wound can tend to her. The rest of you, you know what to do. No sleeping on the job."
"Yes, sir Brandon! Have a good night, sir Brandon!"
Brandon walked past them, hopped in his car and drove away.
Hearing footsteps come closer, a guard lifted me up and carried me up to my room. Another one followed behind him with a first aid kit.
"Be careful, idiot. If you drop her, we're all screwed!"
"Shut the hell up, Franco!"
My eyes got heavier as the man carrying me kicked my door open, laying me down. The other guard Franco opened the kit.
"Where'd he hit you, miss Diana?"
"M-my side."
He lifted my shirt up. I stared at his face when it carved into a look of surprise and a little disgust. Like it was that bad.
"Wow, he really did a number out of you, miss Diana," Franco said as he dabbed some alcohol.
"He even broke some skin."
"Ivan, go get me a cold compress."
Ivan went into my bathroom and prepared a cold washcloth. Franco placed it in my side and dabbed on it. I winced every time he touched my bruise. He bandaged my dtomach, covering the bruise up and pulled my shirt down. on it. I winced every time he touched my bruise. He bandaged my dtomach, covering the bruise up and pulled my shirt down.
Franco and Ivan left my room, turning the lights off. They were more nicer than the other guards. Well, Franco mostly was the nicest.
"Hey, Franco. You're really nice than the other guards. Ya know?"
"Well, I have a family, miss Diana." Franco smiled. "Now get some rest." He closed the door, leaving me to my thoughts.
I haven't been able to get some actual rest since I met Brandon.