Becoming a DeMarlo

19: "Let go of me."

Chapter 19: "Let go of me."

"What the hell is going on here?" he hissed.

Tyler picked himself off the ground, with his left cheek rapidly turning a bright shade of red.

I glanced around the hallway to see that it was thankfully empty, before being struck by my uncle's piercing glare once again. I felt an impending sense of doom arising from the pits of my stomach. 

"Uncle Paul—"

"Is this what you come to school for?" he interrupted. "Rubbing noses with any guy who looks your way?"

Tyler huffed behind me.

"Yeah, that's exactly the type of person she is. A fake fucking whore."

I turned to face him, my heart hurting from his words.

"Do you want another one on the other side of your face to make 'em matching?" Uncle Paul growled, taking a step closer to Tyler with his fist raised. "Get out of here before I break every bone in your ugly face."

Tyler gave me one last hard glare, before turning and leaving.

I watched him go, feeling like I was the one who'd been punched.

Uncle Paul slammed my locker shut, making me flinch, before grabbing me by my wrist. 

He began pulling me to the parking lot, while muttering curses under his breath.

"Uncle-ouch! Let go, you're hurting me!" I shouted, as he kept his iron grip on my wrist.

He ignored me, and opened the back of his SUV to shove me in.

"Uncle—"

"Maya, unless you want me to smack you across the face, I'd recommend for you to keep your mouth shut," he snapped.

My eyes were wide at his harsh tone. He wasn't playing around.

I spent the excruciatingly-long car ride home rubbing my wrist and trying to think about anything but what had just happened.

I knew one thing: I was NOT a fake whore, regardless of whatever Tyler thought.

When we arrived home, I tried to walk up to my bedroom, but Uncle Paul pulled me back from the stairs.

"Where the hell do you think you're going?" he spat, his veins practically popping out of his neck.

To say that I was now scared of him would be an understatement. His loud voice was echoing in the lobby of the house and I was putting every ounce of energy to get out of his tight hold on my arm.

"I just—"

"You just, what?", he asked, while shaking me by my arm. "Do you even have an ounce of remorse for your actions? Your bloody mother had more shame than you."

My fear turned to fury at his words. I couldn't think of a single action that deserved this level of degrading. 

"What? I haven't even done anything wrong! Let go of me," I demanded, which only seemed to increase his rage. 

Oh, he let go of me alright.

He shoved me back just enough to land a hard slap to my cheek, making me slam against the floor.

Tears sprang to my eyes as he pulled me back up, his hand raised in the air.

I moved my face away, bracing myself from another hit; however, before he could slap me again, someone intervened.

"Uncle! What are you doing?"

I opened my eyes to see that it was my youngest brother. 

"Move, Jasper. Your sister's been labelled the school whore," Uncle Paul bitterly spoke.