Chapter 121

And a tear-soaked chicken I had been, because come on, what gave him the right to go throwing such crap at me? Freaking spoiled, hormonal teenager!

Thus was the subject of my rant once I'd had my 'oh, so hurt' cry on the kitchen stool, which had seen a lot of my sorry butt, I realized, as I'd rarely seen anyone but myself sitting in it. Milly was all too happy to join in, especially when I filled her in the details about wanting to get him some sort of father figure.

"What right does he to tell you what to do with your relationships?" she'd said, managing to sound twice as angry as I felt. "He's a scrawny, angry little son of a bitch, and he should accept that! Honestly, what he said bordered on emotional manipulation, that's horrible character. Beating's the only medicine for that."

I hadn't been thinking of going that far, but a smack on the butt would certainly remind him of his place. Honestly.