What You Caused

35.

Chapter 35 | Drunk Lucas

Lucas:

"Excuse me," I mumble, standing up from my chair abruptly. The motion causes the three ladies to jump back in shock and my chair clatters to the floor behind me. I hear them call after me as I storm out of the kitchen and the patter off footsteps following as I shove my shoes on and walk out the front door, promptly slamming the door behind me.

My hands curl into a fists as I charge up the driveway and to my car. Anger pumping through my blood as I fish out my keys from my pocket and yank the car door open.

The drive to Ivy's house is a haze. I don't even remember the 10 minuets that go by before I find myself pummelling on her front door.

"Ivy," I yell, "open the fucking door."

I see her neighbour peeking out of her front window through the blinds in curiosity as I continue shouting.

I raise my fist to begin knocking again when the door finally flies open revealing fucking Trent staring up at me with a cocky little smirk on smug fucking face.

Absolute fury courses through me as he looks at me like he's just won a prize, shirtless and his blonde hair sticking up in all directions as he leans against the door frame.

"Oh hi Luca-" he begins but doesn't even manage to get that fucking sentence out when he is pushed back through the door and slammed up against the wall of Ivy's hallway. His smirk drops as I ram my fist into his cheek, blood immediately oozing out of his nose from the impact.

I think I hear Ivy stumbling into the hallway and beginning to start screaming but honestly I take no notice. All my senses are consumed by my anger, the image of fucking Ivy and Trent flashing in my mind as I continuously ram my fist into Trent's fucking face. My left hand is wrapped around his neck and I see his face growing increasingly red. It's when his entire lip is busted, his nose probably broken and his face turning almost purple when I finally let go of my grip on him and allow him to drop to the floor.

Ivy immediately rushes over to him, her eyes widened in alarm, tears streaking down my face. She looks back up at me, guilt flooding her features and I clench my jaw.

"Fuck you," I spit, my voice low as I shake my head and look down at her in a disgusted manner. "We're fucking done."

I storm out of the house and Ivy tries to follow me, screaming my name desperately but she stops short at the front door as she realises she's only in her bra and panties.

I don't look back as I get back in the fucking car and begin driving back home, blood oozing out of my bruised and busted knuckles as I grip the steering wheel. Pain soars through my hands at the deathly grasp I have on the wheel but I don't give two shits, all I'm focused on is getting home and getting a fucking drink.

***

Isabella:

There's a pounding at the door that scares the crap out of me. It's the type of pounding that sounds like someone is about to burst open through the door at any second and ki-

I stop that thought. Maybe it isn't the time to be thinking about getting brutally murdered when I'm home alone and someone is knocking at the door at 10 in the evening.

After our only guest had done a runner, thanksgiving dinner had gone to bust. All throughout dinner, my grandmother had been fretting over Lucas' whereabouts rather than enjoying the delicious meal she had made and because of his lack of of presence, the amount of food leftover was almost scary.