Michael came home later than usual from his killing sprees. He usually comes home at around 10:00 at night, but he came home at 3:00 in the morning.
"Where were you, Michael!?" I ask. "You had me worried sick."
"I'm fine. Don't overreact."
"Really, Michael?" I scoff. "I thought someone killed you or incarcerated you."
"Y/N, forget it." His voice booms at me.
"But why were you out so late?"
"It is none of your business."
"None of my business? Your health is none of my business?"
"I can stay out as late as I please!"
"Fuck off, Michael."
Aaaand that pissed him off. He threw his bloody knife at me. He barely missed, and it plunges into the wall.
I apologize profusely and run upstairs. I was scared; Michael has never been this hostile towards me.
He catches up with me and knocks me to the ground.
He pins my hands above my head.
"I don't have to explain myself, understood, little girl. Understand?"
My breathing hitches. "Yes, sir."
Word count- 173
This sucked. Thank you for 3k on the Bowers Gang Preferences!
XoXo,
RK
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