wild star| ongoing

six

CHAPTER 6:
November 11th, 2015
• • •

A strident scream departed from Brandy's lips as Keith's fingers latched onto her locks.

"These sessions you go to." His fury sprung to life. "You go there to whore around with guys like him?"

She screwed her eyes shut, terror stabbing her heart. "I don't whore around. I haven't done anything wrong—"

Brandy was suddenly pinned against the wall by the television, that stupid, stupid football game rolling in the background.

At home, Brandy's father would always have his preferred game replays on in the background. He'd sit in his designated armchair, his throne, consuming beer after beer well into the night. Brandy and her mother wouldn't dare interrupt him because they knew how seriously he took those games, and how he would even gamble the money they earned on the results.

She saw her father in Keith - the madness in his hazel eyes and the crooked intentions sprawled across his face. Perhaps, subconsciously, she sought after a man like her father. Sought the attention she never received. Sought someone to take his place since she had grown so used to chaos when she was a child.

"What did you tell him?" Keith snarled in her ear, tightening his grip on her hair. "What the fuck did you tell him?"

"Nothing!" Her legs felt heavy, and she feared they might give out at any moment. Despite her efforts to calm down, the rush of adrenaline in her system was overwhelming, and it was all she could feel.

"You talk about me in those sessions? You say shit about me? What the fuck do you say?" he bombarded her with a barrage of questions.

"I don't say—"

His hand painfully gripped her jaw. "Lie to me again and I'll do worse."

"I-I s-swear." Tears flooded her eyes, betraying her will to remain strong. "I don't say much about you. I only told them that you're a cop, that's all. I didn't say anything else."

He seethed with bitterness, and his face twisted with anger as he slammed his fist above her head. Although her boyfriend had his fair share of moments, some worse than others, they were never to this extent. He, too, was a man with a complicated past and a father who rivalled her own, and she understood that. But each outburst from him seemed to be bigger and more dangerous than the last.

"FUCK!" He struck the wall again. "What the fuck were you doing with him? Why the fuck did you ignore my calls?"

Brandy's scalp burned, his grip on her hair making it increasingly difficult to think. "I didn't get any calls. And I thought you knew that I have these sessions on Tuesday—"

"You're calling me a liar?" Keith released her hair and she crashed to the floor, just when she heard 'touchdown!' blaring from the television. "I called you seven fucking times. Seven! What, were you so caught up with that Grant bastard that you didn't notice?"

Brandy retreated slowly, her body burdened with an uneasy heaviness she couldn't shake off. "We went out for a coffee after the session," she admitted with the wholehearted belief that he would simmer down once she confessed the truth. "He said he wanted to get to know me better so that he could help me get clean."

"Bitch!" He grabbed her by the hair again. The pain was a fire raging in her chest, incinerating her nerves until all her senses were numb. "I swear to God I'm gonna..."

She lifted her arms in defence to cover her face when he pulled his fist back, ready to strike. The punch never connected, but she did feel herself being thrown against the wall, the little strength she had remaining fleeing from her muscles as she slumped over. Both the tears and the impact that the back of her head made blurred her vision.