Ditching Greek | editing

36| Good Intentions

I didn't waste a moment to let any of the things she had just said sit in my thoughts. I sprinted for the door, hiking up my legs and ignoring everything else going on around me. I'd rather shoot myself in the foot than spend another moment with that woman. Clyde and my dad were both insane to think otherwise.

A set of hands grabbed at me, jerking me to a stop. It was Clyde. I froze from his touch, inching away from him. He had tricked me into coming here.

"Nabella," he whispered into my ear, "she's here to help you."

"No, she's here to piss me off," I barked. My chest tightened as I spoke and my hands shook uncontrollably. I clenched my fists, hoping that would help hide my anger. "Now let go of my arm. I'm not staying here a second longer."

"You said she was ready to learn and accept her fate," my dad announced from behind us, speaking in a firm tone.

"She is ready," Clyde confirmed. "She's more than ready."

"She's just not ready to work with me, I'm presuming," Erica said smugly. Clyde nodded for me. I hated how they were talking about me as if I wasn't in the room, listening to every word they said about me. It was like I was merely a spectator to them. Only here to observe and not to join in on the discussion.

"If that's the case," my dad said, "then she's not ready at all." He stalked across the short distance to the door where I was standing next to Clyde, with my arm held in his grip and my left leg only a few inches away from the open door. Dad's frown softened when he approached me. "How much of the story do you know?"

Clyde tried to answer for me. "She knows enough--"

"I wasn't talking to you." Dad's deep frown repeated, faster than ever. "Now why don't you get your damn hands off my daughter? I don't know how you treat other girls around here, but I hope you don't use that kind of aggression on my little girl ever again." He scanned Clyde from head to toe, frowning the entire time. "If you don't mind, I'd like to speak to her without your contribution."

Clyde stiffened beside me. "Yes, Mr. Osmani."

"It's sir to you. Until you get the privilege to call me anything else, you'll address me as sir and nothing more. Now let go of her."

They stared each other down for a moment longer, holding their ground. But in the end, Clyde released my arm and shuffled off to the opposite side of the room, slumping onto a wall with his hands in his pockets. A scowl was taking form on his face and his jaw was clenched shut. I knew from his stance alone that he was holding in a lot more than he was showing me right now.

My father's voice ripped me away from my thoughts. "What do you know so far about the story?"

I glanced back up to him and went on to explain the amount of information I had collected. From learning about my connection to the world as the reincarnation of some dead woman  to the possibility that I might be a killer--I told him everything. My dad nodded at times, but stayed silent for the most part.

"I'm not missing anything important, right?"

"You're missing a whole lot." Erica coughed a laugh. "There were more predictions they had set to happen for the two of you. First of all, you don't need to worry about turning into some psychopathic serial killer when your powers kick in. The girl wasn't a serial killer. Every time she ended a life, it was out of protection. People she trusted started to deceive her from left to right as she got closer to gaining her powers. There was an energy in her--which is in you-- that will make you want to protect your loved ones and yourself at any cost. She didn't kill for fun. She did it because it was her life or theirs. Her spirit had that quality, and I'm sure you've noticed it in yourself as well."