“Ever heard of knocking?” I ask as he straightens himself.
“Where is the little whore?” he snaps.
I glance out into the hallway. Another guy in a white dress shirt and navy slacks stands outside, glaring at me.
The odds are not in my favor tonight, but I don’t care. I’ve never been scared of taking a hit because I learned how to hit back harder.
“I don’t know. Where does your mother live?” I shrug, taking a step back as he shoves his way forward to the space between the living room area and kitchen.
“Prue!” he shouts her name, and I hate the way he makes it sound. The disrespect he shows her makes my blood boil. “Get your fucking ass out here now.”
“If she is a good girl, she isn’t going to do that.”
He flashes me an evil glare, stepping toward me as his friend slips into the apartment.
“Did you fuck her?” His spit lands on my face as he presses his hand to my chest, shoving me into the wall behind me.
“That’s not really any of your concern, now, is it?”
“Prue!” he shouts again, keeping his hand firmly against my chest.
“Buddy, I’m going to kindly ask you to remove your hand from my body before I ask not so kindly.”
“You think this is some joke?” he barks into my face. “If I don’t marry that stupid bitch my parents won’t give me my fucking inheritance.”
Hearing him call her a bitch makes me vow to never call her that again. I hate the way he makes it sound like a bad thing. I’ve become rather fond of her bitchy attitude but hearing him use it as an insult makes me angry. So angry, I shove him back.
He stumbles, surprised by how much force I use.
“She isn’t going to marry you. In fact, she is never going to be with you again,” I snap, grabbing his shirt and tugging him closer to me. “She’s gotten a taste of a real man now. She’ll never want you back, Charles.”
His fist connects with my face in seconds. My eyes snap shut for just a moment, opening just in time to see his fist rise again.
I take another hit to the face before shoving him back.
“Good to know you don’t just hit women,” I snap, rubbing my cheek. The feel of blood under my fingertips doesn’t even phase me.
“Prue!” he screams again, turning his back to me.
Her frame steps out of the room, and I groan in frustration.
“Why can’t you ever listen,” I mutter.
“You slept with him?” he shouts, taking a step toward her. She doesn’t speak, doesn’t move. I slide alongside of him. I don’t want him getting any closer to her. “Answer the fucking question!”
“Yes,” she responds this time. “And I fucking loved it.”
My chest swells with pride. Not just because she admits she loved it, but because she is standing up to him.
I slip in front of him before he can close the space between him and her. His arm is already lifted in the air, but when he realizes he won’t be able to hit her, he brings it down on top of my head.
The pain is a little overwhelming, and I bite the inside of my mouth to keep from dropping to the floor.
His other fist slams against my rib. Over and over until I manage to push him back. I get a punch in, straight to his nose. As blood drips from it, he lands another one in my side.
“Stop!” Prue yells. “Charles. Stop.”
I hate hearing her say his name. It’s the last thing I ever want to hear her say again.
