"Patty Cakes," you call out as you run full speed at him.
"Hey, (Y/N)," he says laughing.
He wraps his arm around your waist, and you wrap your arms around his neck.
"You haven't changed a bit," he says chuckling as he looks you up and down.
"Thanks... I think, and you've changed a lot," you say glancing him over.
"That's what the years do to you. God, high school was so long ago," he sighs pushing his glasses up.
"Yeah, I hated high school," you mumble pushing up your own glasses.
"At leas-," he starts to say, but Brendon asks, "Don't you look hotter than ever, (Y/N)?"
"Thanks," you mumble.
'Please, please, please go away. You've already tortured me enough throughot high school,' you think to yourself.
Brendon wraps his arm around your waist, and you freeze up. This reminds you of all the horrible things he did in school inbetween classes, after school, before school, and weekends. His hand slides down lower until it's on your butt. He grabs it, and you give a small jump.
"You okay," Patrick asks raising his eyebrows.
"One hundred percent," you say trying to act normal.
Knowing Brendon, even now, if you tell anyone what happened or will happen, he'll make you pay for it some painful way.
"How have you been Patrick," he asks tightening his hold on you.
"It's good. Touring's really amazing, but I'm missing something," he mumbles glancing at you.
You can feel the blood rushing to your cheeks as Patrick glances at you.
"Well, I think I found the person that I was looking for," Brendon says as he looks down at you.
'I hate you,' you think.
Patrick's faces clouds over as Brendon says, "Come on, (Y/N)."
'No, no, no, no, nooo,' you scream inside your head, but you nod anyway.
As Brendon leds you away, you glance back at Patrick and mouth the word 'help.'
He tilts his head to the side, and Brendon quickly snatches you down the hallway and out the door. He basically drags you to his car.
"What in the hell do you think you're doing," you quietly ask.
"Oh, baby, I basically own you," he whispers smirking.
He lays a hand on your thigh, and you press you body against the seat.
"You don't own me," you mumble.
"You know that your father made a deal with my father about some drug money. The deal was to provide him with all the money and drugs he needed so long as I could have you anytime or do anything to you," he says.
"I'm a legal adult now, and I can't and never should have been brought into that deal," you mumble glancing up at him.
"But you were, so now you're mine. You got away from me one time, but that's not going to happen again. You even have a little tattoo of my family's crest behind your ear," he says as he moves his hand up to your ear.
"How," you manage to say.
You know his family is capable of anything, but how could they give you a tattoo, and you not remember it.
