The Dead Among Us

66. Sore Hands and Snarky Mouth

Fabia's POV

Goddamnit... 

Why am I like this... 

 My cheeks flush with embarrassment as I carefully place my fork on the table and push my chair back. The grating sound against the floor is magnified in the sudden heavy silence of the dining room.

I can feel Pedro's sights on me, a mix of concern and hesitation in his gaze as I make my way towards the staircase.

Upon reaching my room, I allow the darkness to envelop me, choosing to forgo the comfort of the light. I sink onto the bed, my senses heightened as I anxiously await Sabin's arrival.

It has been a while since I've been in trouble, and the fresh surge of nerves is weighty.

The minutes drag on, each one feeling like an eternity as I wait for Sabin to come up here. Finally, I hear the heavy thud of his footsteps on the stairs, growing louder and closer until he reaches our room.

When he pushes the door open, his expression is a mix of disappointment and maybe frustration, but definitely not anger.

I sit there shakily as he closes the door and says, "Bend over the bed."

...Damn...that quick?...No 'kneel,' no talk, nothing.

When I stand up to get in position, he adds, "Drop the sweatpants."

Fuck my life...

Facing the bed, I stick my fingers in the waistband, feeling the cool air hit my skin as I obey.

"I didn't say your panties," he states firmly from behind me, and I stiffen.

I peek down, realizing I am accidentally lowering my panties, too. Awkwardly dragging those back up and lowering just my sweats to my thighs, I bend over the bed.

"What was that?" he asks me, standing behind me, leaning against the dresser, my ass on display for him.

So there is a talk...

"I got defensive of Benji, sorry..." I answer nervously.

He doesn't say anything, and every second in this position is humiliating.

"You're getting ten with the belt for disrespecting Jon, Fa... I've made it clear to you before to respect him and Papi."

His words rip apart my composure, "The belt?! Why?!" I squeal in horror, tilting my head back at him.

"Ya want the truth?" he asks as he reaches down to unbuckle his belt. The metallic jingle of the buckle intensifies my already palpable sense of dread.

"No, a lie is fine," I counter aggressively, unable to contain my nervous mouthing off.

The little jingle stops, and I fear I've really done it until I hear him laugh lightly.

"My hand is sore, Fa," he answers in an amused tone. "So you're shit outta luck and getting the belt, got it?"

"Whatever," I mumble annoyed.

"We can do twelve," he states, getting a little more agitated with me.

"I don't know. Can your sore little hands handle twelve?"

What the hell is wrong with you, Fabia??!!

A laugh slips past his lips before he says, "Okay, fifteen it is."

Great going, dumbass.......

I bury my face into my arms, bracing myself when I hear him fold the belt in half.