Page 21 of The Monster I Am
Now? I hate the idea that I’m starting to see their point of view. It’s expected that I remain at his beck and call, but now that I’ve suddenly done wrong in his eyes, I’m being dismissed and tossed aside like trash—implied that I’m not mature enough to handle things. Not to mention the clear disregard that the all-important role bestowed upon me was justschoolyard play. It’s beginningto sound as though everything was just a test of my compliance and I failed, therefore now deemed worthless.
Keeping my voice steady, I reply, “It was one minor hiccup that we’ve now sorted. I’m more than capable of handling this.”
I’ve said too much. I’m sure he probably assumes I’m referring to Spencer and the Cedar Heights students, but I need to tread carefully. If I give it away that we’re looking into the fire—sorry, fires—this whole situation will become even more difficult to navigate. We’re already walking around on eggshells to hide our investigation. The last thing we need is to give our position away and alert them to the fact we are snooping against their orders.
Elizabeth’s voice appears faintly in the background before my father lets out a growl. “Hunter, you will do as you’re told.”
Click.
I doubt he even listened to me at all, attention obviously focused on his true and only passions—job and reputation.
The frustration is threatening to send me head first into a downward spiral, barely fighting back against the overwhelming urge tonot do as I’m told.
Instead of going inside, I throw the car in reverse. Driving away from the house, I barely give any thought to my actions. Maybe if I was gripped by some resemblance of rationality instead of sheer annoyance, I’d make better choices. But instead, I find myself parked out front of the last place I ever expected to be.
Soft footsteps grow louder after I bang my knuckles loudly on the peeling wooden door, and when it swings open, I can tell she’s equally perplexed by my abrupt and unexpected arrival.
“Lannister, what the hell are you doing here?” Spencer asks defensively, crossing her arms.
That’s a great question, Duchess.
“We need to talk,” I reply snidely, barging past her into the house.
Spencer mutters a curse under her breath, making her protests loudly known but I’m too distracted by the sight of her living room. It’s so…simple.
Well, at least it’s tidy. I’m not sure what I was expecting. This was very much an act now, think later kind of impulsive decision. I didn’t think this throughat all. But it’s too late to turn back now, unless I want to admit toherthat I’m fucked up.
Maybe when hell freezes over.
“Hey, dickhead—I asked you a question.”
Swinging around, I come face to face with a very cranky looking Spencer, and it suddenly dawns on me why my ridiculous fried brain opted to come here.
I need to fight with someone.
Scoffing, I roll my eyes. “Settle down, Duchess. The world doesn’t revolve around you. Or have you forgotten we are currently dealing with a situation? You shouldn’t—since you love to remind us about it every chance you get.”
My eyes drift down her body, stopping on the bandages and gauzes still plastered over her legs. Injuries, I’m sokindlyreminded, that she obtained because Spencer decided to save me.
If only she knew I’m beyond saving and shouldn’t have wasted her time.
“Is this some type of mental breakdown?” she questions when I don’t immediately answer. “Seriously, just get the fuck out of my house, Lannister. I’m too exhausted to deal with you today.”
It’s because of her words I truly look at her wholly. While she’s doing everything in her power to portray complete composure, control, and what I can only assume is a weak attempt at physical strength, the usual fire is absent. No pun intended.
Dark circles are visible under her eyes, and the longer we stand in this face-off position, the more I see her start to struggle.
It’s clear she’s returned to Willowbrook far earlier than her body is capable of handling. I guess I have my father to partly thank for that too. But he can’t take all the credit. After all, it wasmyidea to have him threaten her graduation and throw that little grenade at her.
Ignoring her, I pivot and stroll into the living room. “Sit down, Spencer. A small breeze could knock you over at this point. It’s pathetic, really.”
Turning my back on her was my first mistake.
Provoking her was my second.
There’s no time to consider the incoming consequences of my actions before a foot solidly connects with the back of my knee, causing my legs to buckle. I manage to catch myself, but before I can fully straighten up, her hands shove me hard in the back.
Gross. The color of this carpet I’m now staring at should be illegal. Whoever designed it was clearly color blind and had no concept or understanding of blue. Or is it gray? It’s hard to tell.
