Lisa’s P.O. V.
My face hit the cold hard wood of the table with tremendous force as my ankle was grabbed, pulling my legs out from under me. I felt the blood gush out of my nose and the familiar taste of metal fill my mouth from the bite I know sported on my lip. I turned with a groan, kicking at the hand that gripped my ankle, until my other leg was grabbed as well. I wiggled as hard as I could, sitting up and trying to punch them. My mind was in a panic, forgetting everything I had been taught. I couldn’t reach them from my sitting position, missing them with each punch, only further exhausting myself.
“Let me go!” I yelled.
“Chris, get the door, before your brother comes back in,” Daniel ordered him, sounding angry that I had yelled.
Chris let go of my ankle, but not until Daniel had a hold of it. They were smart, almost as if they’d done this before.
Was this their sick way of bonding?