The Bully

Chapter Seven

He lingered in the doorway just a little too long. I looked at him a little more than I should have in school. We took rides together in his car and lost all caution of being seen. He kissed me outside Stampede when I'd finished selling tickets as he was heading in for his match. We forgot we needed to be careful; we forgot why nobody could know, so caught up in our little bubble of joy that the fears I'd had as we embarked on our relationship became fuzzy and faint.

There was a knock on the door just after one in the morning. It was a Stampede day so I was later getting in and smiled, thinking it was Bret. That he'd forgotten we didn't spend time together on Stampede nights. But it wasn't Bret.

His hand wrapped round my throat and he shoved me inside the door before slamming it shut behind him. Backing me to the wall, Tom squeezed hard and then released me abruptly.

"Fucking slut," he spat, his eyes searching the room I called home and landing on a T-shirt of Bret's that was draped over one of my chairs at the tiny kitchen table where I took my meals.

"Get out or I'll scream," I said, moving back, keeping the bed between us, my eyes darting to the door. Tom laughed.

"I'm fully intending for you to scream," he said, his voice slurred. My heat sank as I realised he was drunk. "When I'm done with you you'll have screamed yourself hoarse."

"Bret will be here in ten minutes," I bluffed and he laughed again.

"You think I'm scared of your prick of a boyfriend? Don't count on that happening Angelcakes. He won't want anything to do with you by the time I'm through."

"What are you talking about?" I said. Tom narrowed his eyes and moved towards me. I backed away into the wall and he stood over me, bringing his knuckles down my cheek.

"We could have been so good together. Your mom would have loved us to be a couple you know? She won't even have your name spoken in the house now; she's completely disowned you. Doesn't give a flying fuck what you do with your life any more. How does that feel? Knowing she loves me, the son of her husband more than she loves you her own flesh and blood?" If he thought his taunts would hurt me he was wrong. I'd known all my life Mom didn't love me and though it hurt, it was a constant dull ache and he couldn't sharpen that pain because it had always been there, as much a part of me as the blood running through my veins. Seeing that he didn't get a reaction he switched tactics. "And Bret, does he know why you wouldn't have anything to do with him all those years? Does he know she'd beat your ass with her belt? Does he know I've beaten your ass with my bare hands and that you loved it?"

"You've never touched my ass," I managed to say and he laughed.

"Oh we're gonna fix that tonight Angelcakes don't you worry." I turned white and tried to move away from him but he grabbed my arms, slamming me back against the wall. "You know how much it turns me on when you say sir to me? When I used to slap those beautiful legs of yours."

"You're sick," I said, turning my face away from him and he patted my cheek just hard enough to sting.

"Maybe I am but so are you. You get with Bret just to try and piss your mom off? Get your own back? Or was it to try and get my attention? You been craving some discipline from your big brother?" I felt sick and ducked my head, avoiding his gaze.

"You're not my brother; you're nothing to me."

"Makes it all the sweeter when I put my hands on you doesn't it?" he said, reaching around to grip my ass. I struggled and managed to remove his hand, as he laughed and took a step back.

"What do you want Tom?" I asked, trying to fight the tremor in my voice.

"I want what you've given so freely to Hart. I want you. Always thought I'd be your first," he commented and the nausea rose in me. Seeing me heave a little, he glared at me. "Knowing he's had those greasy paws all over you makes me sick. He's a fucking oily bastard who probably fucks every fan girl that comes his way and you've been drawn in by a pair of pretty brown eyes."