Thirteen-years-old, Connor Wolfhard, a considerate and magnanimous teen, trying to cope with the enslaved power of a merciless creature. With the abidance of detest, deep-rooted for his contentious mother, and intricate in an explosive concocted sto...
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C O N N O R
"Connor or more like a corner?" Maverick grabbed my chin and let out a peal of laughter.
"I-It's Connor." As I mumbled this to correct him, he slammed me against the wall, crossing his arms.
Thibbault shot me his last glare before I saw him walking upstairs.
"Listen shithead. Don't even think about taking my Dad away from me." Maverick spat out, holding me in his tight grip.
No matter how much I squirmed to get away from his grip but couldn't help as he's a lot bigger and stronger than me.
"Did you hear me!?" His eyes pierced into me and he appeared more outraged than the earlier. I quickly gave him a meek nod.
"You little shitheads are nothing. They barge into our lives and steal all the attention from us." He screamed, and fiercely glared at me with rage and hate. "I never wanted any younger sibling, you know." My breath was knocked out of me. "Never."
Is he stupid? My mother never loved me. My father disowned me and those criminals abused me all my life.
Whose attention will I get?
A few tears poured down my cheeks, when I felt a hard punch landed on my jaw. I fell to the ground at once when he released me.
"Watch." He lifted up my chin harshly. "How am going to turn your life into a living hell." His lips pursed into a slight smirk, when he saw me trembling, "Mark my words, Connor."
I tried to catch my breath, shaking violently. He didn't even turn back to look at me, just went straight away upstairs. I felt pathetic for not defending myself.
A sob escaped my lips. First, my mom, then Riley and Kyle and now my brothers?
I shut my eyes, taking deep breaths. I slowly stood up and clutched onto the couch because I was feeling a bit dizzy. A moment later, I tried to move upstairs and to my room.
I laid down on my bed, holding my cheek that was still thumping in pain.
Why couldn't I stand up to anyone?
Why was I scared of them?
Why am I this pathetic?
Why do bad things always happen to me?
Why is my life so complicated?
Why do all the people have to be me?
I kept staring at the ceiling, trying to collect my thoughts when I heard the slamming of the front door and footsteps echoed down the hallway.
