"Ash," he breathed, "We're getting dangerous here."
"No head?"
Something red flashed through his eyes, as the corners of his mouth tugged into a smile. "You're going to give me head, whether you like it or not. I meant that we can't turn back after...
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Though everything screamed otherwise, Kye's a smart guy. He finished high school on top of his class and got all kinds of scholarships from universities begging to have him. Yet he's so arrogant he thinks he can get away with taking a few gap years before heading to the big cities, like some lazy ass fucker.
And his family, they're rich. And when I say rich, I mean loaded. I mean drowning in money. Though he doesn't live with them anymore and instead has his own apartment, his family still backs him like a mother duck it's chick.
And, like you've probably noticed, everyone fucking adores him. They let him get away with anything. I wouldn't be surprised if he could kill someone in cold blood, and someone else would cover for him.
Plus, he's ripped. He could break open that soap container like snapping a small twig. He held me down without any force and all the air was still blown out of my lungs.
Therefore, I wasn't as dumb as to try and get back at him. Not as long as he could kill me for it, anyway. I was going to wait, very patiently, until the best opportunity would present itself to me. When he's finally shot down for his actions and comes clawing, searching for help, I'd step on his head. When his family would cut him off and he's left with no money and no other choice but to beg on the streets, I'd kick over his begging can. When he's starving and comes to me for food, I'd give him a poisoned apple. When-
My thoughts took a halt when I met my mother's empty eyes, staring straight through me. I threw my backpack in the corner and shook my head, hitting my palm on my forehead repeatedly. Get yourself straight, Ashley, revenge-plotting could come another time. Like it always did. First, your mom.
"How was school?" she asked, her voice hoarse. Everything about my mom's face was hollow. Her eyes, her cheeks, her gaze. Her body looked like it could pulverize into ashes at any moment. That was also what Kye reminded me of anytime he called me by my nickname.
"I didn't go to school today, it's Sunday," I reminded her. "I was at the library."
"Did you buy my cigarettes?"
"No, I didn't." I passed by the scruffy sofa she sat on and hurried to the kitchen to get her something to drink. She could throw tantrums if I didn't satisfy her with something else soon.
"Why didn't you buy-" She coughed painfully. "My cigarettes."
Because I can't pay for the hospital bills if you get lung cancer, mom, I told her silently. I rummaged through the dishes for a clean and unbroken glass. There was none. So, I took a filthy one and simply cleaned it with my fingers before filling it up with water.
I stared at the cold stream, blocking out any memories of Kye filling up my mouth with poisonous liquid. I hated him. I hated his guts. I could kill him anytime and I wouldn't feel a thing.
But I disgusted myself for having weak knees after he'd pinned me against the toilet doors. It disgusted me that, when I pulled my panties down just now to pee, they were soaked.
