His "Sister"

Chapter 8: Near Death Experiences

Author's note: 400 HUNDRED READS??? HOLY CRAP THAT'S AMAZING! That's it for now :)

I cringe at how bad this must look to my dad, not that I honestly care about what he thinks about me. And if I did, I sure as hell wouldn't admit it. No way. I glance over at Ryan, and mouth "Sorry."

"Who's this, Emerson? Your little male prostitute you hired cause no guy in his right mind would EVER date you. Hate to break it to you, hon, but your ugly looks are too unattractive for anyone to look at." The man chuckles darkly, as if his words could break me.

Well, maybe one day they will, but that day IS NOT today.

"How did you ever pass grade school with that redudancy of yours? And no, Ryan is my FRIEND not a prostitute. I can deal with you insulting me, but not him. He's a nice guy, unlike you, you sick-minded bastard." I coldy shoot back, not daring to face him, knowing that he's unpleasantly surprised by my outburst. As if I would actually sit and be quiet while he talks badly about my misunderstood friend..

Then, I feel a strong handed grip wrapped around my neck, cutting off my air. It pulls me off the couch, and I am suspended mid-air. "Burn- - - in - - hell." I gasp out what may be my last words.

I must say, last words well spent. I look at the couch to see Ryan, I may as well have my last sight be him. He is so fine, and maybe looking at him will get me to heaven faster.

*SMACK!*

"Let her go." My hero growls.

I hit the ground with a thud, and gasp for air like a fish out of water.

"You little dick! You punched me! YOU ACTUALLY PUNCHED ME!" Dad shouts in disbelief.

"Actually, you're the one with a small dick. That's probabaly cause you shoved 3/4 of it into your personallity." He counters, without missing a beat.

Am I dreaming? Did Ryan punch my dad? If he did, than this must be a dream come true at last. I look up, still lying on the floor, to see Ryan reach out to help me up. I rub the back of my neck.

"Did he snap my neck like a chicken's?" I ask Ryan, but my voice is soft, barely above a whisper.

"No, Emerson. Now let's go." He dirrects me in hushed tones as well.

"YOU TWO AREN'T GOING ANY WHERE!" We turn our heads to face the man rubbing his cheek, looking as if he could kill us both.

"What do we do?" I bit my lip nervously, I don't want to have to spend the night here, even if this is my house. I'd rather sleep in black van than this house.

At least I'd get FREEEEEEE CANDY in the van. I get free abuse in the house. Deciscions, descions.

"I say we wing it." Ryan whispers his answer in my ear, breathing hot air on my damaged neck.

"Try getting anywhere without using the front door." He sneers, most likely feeling superior. Well sorry Daddy, but you have another thing coming if you think this will stop us.

A slight bang sound causes me to snap out of my thoughts, and look to see my dad having his back flat against the door. The way his arms and legs are spread out to insure that Ryan and I don't leave, make him look like a human starfish.

Where did that thought come from? I know my brain can be random but I never thought it could be THAT messed up. Maybe that's why the art teacher always talks to me like I'm a five year old, she thinks I'm retarded. Wow. That is a stunning discovery.

"Follow my lead." I say to Ryan, in a still low level. I think I have a plan.

Without warning, I sprint over to where my dad is and use the rest of my energy to kick him in the balls. His face turns pale, then he crumbles to the ground. Fortunatly, dad has moved out of the way, so I can open the door to run out.