I cried out in pain. Again, people looked at me.
“What the FUCK Nyleigh?” I spat out blood and looked at her in disgust. Arched over, I saw her expressionless face. Cray took a few steps. I didn’t bother to look at her. I can’t hit my sister. I have to do something if she tries it again. “Why…” I whispered, almost as if a cry for help. Taunting her for what she did. I want her to feel horrible for this.
“Why? Why did you tell Mason’s parents to ‘fuck off?’ Landon! That was so rude. Especially.. Especially when I’m supposed to tell them about--…” Sucking in her lips, she couldn’t carry on.
“Because. I don’t’ fucking believe that’s his.” I hissed out at her. Bemoaning I let that slide--but it's true! Oh hell is it ever so true.
She threw up her leg and hit me in the groin. I gasped and tried to rebalance myself. Trying to speak, it only came out as a quick squeak. This is too ignominious for me right now.
“Landon…” Nyleigh looked away. Trying to brace her new found stigma. I feel like I’ve formed hemiplegia after those two blows. She didn’t hold back. Not one bit. I do feel hurt that she did this, but--..
I sigh angrily, the pain stopped permeating and revivified itself into only a wince as I struggled to straighten, but managed.
Nyleigh was changing—fast. Almost bipolar. One second she looks concerned—blank—angered; blank again and then more cantankerous than ever. Right now, she was inflamed. Her face beamed with flushed red as she shouted, “You idiot!” Then walked off as fast as she could.
I rolled my head and inhaled heavily. Holding my breath, Cray grabbed onto me.
“If you’re going to hit me, I’d like to be pre-warned this time.”
“I’m not going to hurt you physically…” What is that supposed to mean? You’re going to attack me mentally? Too late. I’m already dead there.
