Reverse Rivalry

The Theatrics of Angst III

"Are you out of your goddamn mind?" Jale screeched.

He was shocked. He couldn't believe the bastard just tried to run over his sister, with him in the fucking car no less. The moment went by like a blur but it made his head swell. What the fuck was wrong with this fucking-

Jale wanted to reach over and slam Skylar's head into the steering wheel so hard the bastard's skull would break but Jale held it in. He blew out a breath of air. The car was hot, boiling, with the windows all pulled up.

Sweat cascaded down Jale's brow as the red seat under his thigh sizzled. Jale thumped his fist on his chest to calm himself. He even looked up to the ceiling and muttered words of a prayer to calm the devil in his soul.

He had yet to believe it. He had to sit through Skylar fucking Lain being a gentleman, a two-faced vermin with that cringy smile to his sister, just 2 hours ago.

He had to watch Vale touch his shoulders with her manicured nails, had to internalize seeing her dragging her hand down his arm slowly like she was feeling every single muscle of it. Jale's gut had twisted into knots. It was carved in his brain witnessing Skylar Lain so fucking close to his sister's face.

He swore their lips would have touched if they leaned in just a little bit more. But now, the piece of shit was flipping faster than a light switch?

"Answer me you freak! Messing with me is fine but messing with my fucking sister is not," Jale shouted dropping his hands on the seats and pushed his head through the space between them. Jale was being ignored. He could feel it through the boy's tense facial expression that his words were being heard but went unanswered.

Skylar swerved the car to the left overtaking a car in the lane. He pressed down on the gas. He sped up the car to an even more dangerous speed. Jale fell to the left slamming into the car door painfully. His head hit the window and his cheeks squished against it from the momentum of the turn. Jale groaned at the pain that went straight through his skull. He shouldn't have gotten in this car. He should have taken his goddamn own. Jale cursed in his head.

He also made a mistake by not putting a fucking seatbelt on.

Jale felt disoriented by the dull pain that pulsated through his head. He groaned. He swore by his last name the bastard was fishing for death. He had been edging, stroking and pushing Jale to the last of his patience all
fucking night. If Jale didn't stick his fist down the bastard's throat at least once-

The car came to an abrupt stop lurching Jale forward. His head smacked into the seat in front of him. He cried at the pain that went through his nose.

Skylar motherfucking Lain!

"If you're done with your useless bullshiting, we're home," Skylar said.

Jale lifted his body while holding his nose. He didn't want to notice but he couldn't not. Skylar's tone was ice cold. It was devoid of that lazy aggravating layer of mockery that leaked from his every single word. Jale's eyebrows furrowed. He snarled and slammed his hands on the door handle. He opened it slightly then used his leg to kick it open. It was none of his fucking business what the son of a bitch sounded like. The bastard could choke on his saliva for all he cared.

The door flew open swinging to its maximum width rocking on the hinges. Jale was about to get out, walk through that hell of prison and find a room where he didn't have to see, hear or smell the piece of shit in any way, shape or form but his sister, throwing herself out of the way of this motherfucker's car surged through his brain so instead, he swung around and slapped his right hand on the driver's seat head missing the side of Skylar's face by an inch.