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“Give me my phone, Blaire.” He holds out a hand, and I have no idea where it comes from, but I fling his phone at the wall, shattering the glass screen.
“Fuck you.” I narrow a finger at him, looking right up into his eyes with pure wrath. “That's the last time I trust your word.” Turning my back on him, I storm toward the gym exit.
“Blaire!” he yells my name so loud I feel it shake the atmosphere. “Come back here, right now!”
I don't listen to him. I go up to my room and grab my jacket, then I jog back down the stairs, heading for the front door.
Before I even grab the handle, Charlie is in front of me. “Where are you going?” he says, blocking my way to the door.
“Out,” I snap, avoiding his eyes. “Move, Charlie.”
“You haven't even had breakfast.”
“I'll get something while I'm out.”
“You don't have any money.”
I defiantly meet his blue stare. “Give me some money then.”
His temples tick. “You're not going out.” He walks into me, hunching at the neck to look at me. “We're not done here.”
“You said I can go out if I want to. You said you won’t stop me.”
“Not like this, Blaire.”
I try to sidestep him but he mirrors my movements.
“Charlie, get out of the way,” my tone is low but violent, “or I'll move you myself.”
Grabbing the collar of my jacket, he throws me back against a wall, causing me to gasp on impact.
“If you didn't just smash up my phone you'd see that I wasn't mocking you,” he says harshly in my face, making me feel claustrophobic.
I slap him so hard that his head turns, using the full force of my body.
Wallop!
“What the fuck!” He lets me go then, his entire body contracting with anger. His right cheek is red and I imagine it's throbbing. “Don't you dare slap me,” he warns, his nostrils flaring. “I've let you get away with too much but if you slap me again...”
I huff at him, not in the slightest bit worried about his warning. I'm not scared of him.
I slip past him but he catches my wrist, hauls me around and into his chest. Thrusting up my knee, I try to hit him in the bollocks but he anticipates my move, blocking it with his thigh.
“Let me go!” I scream, pushing against his chest.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” he says, catching my free hand. He then wraps both his arms around my body and imprisons me, my face in his chest. “Whether I said something about you or not is irrelevant—you're mine! I've paid a fucking fortune for you!”
My heart twists and crumbles.
Betrayal. All I feel right now is betrayal for falling for him... trusting him... caring about him...
I'm so livid that I could rip his head off.
Yanking out of his hold with sheer force, I slap him again, harder this time.
WALLOP!
“Is that how you see me?” I say, clenching my fist even though my palm is pulsing with pain. “As something you bought yourself? Is that why you're slagging me off to your friend?”
