Bradley
I followed Hannah home, walking a few feet behind her. She never turned back and looked, but I think she could sense I was there.
When we finally made it back to our neighborhood and Hannah was safely inside her house, I went back to the park for my bike.
My ears perked and I froze when I heard a loud crash, but I dismissed it and went on my way.
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Hannah
He followed me home! Like a fucking stalker.
I was so focused on Bradley’s presence behind me that when I went through the front door, I wasn’t prepared for the fist that came flying into my stomach.
It sent me back, crashing into the door and my ribs ached at the contact.
“Who was that boy with you?” Dad asked me, his voice dangerously low.
“The neighbor. Bradley Brooks. He followed me home.”
“What was he doing with you?”
“I don’t know.”
My dad laughed and stalked over to me, picking me up by the throat. I gripped onto his hands, trying to pry them off of me as I lost oxygen.
“Stay away from him,” Dad warned. “He doesn’t want you, he doesn’t like you. He just wants to use you and dump you.”
I nodded, knowing it was true, and Dad dropped me to the floor.
I sat there, gasping for breath, as Dad walked into the kitchen and grabbed a beer.
“The guys are coming over for dinner,” he called out to me. “Make something good. Don’t mess it up.”
“Yes Sir.”
I went straight to the kitchen and analyzed the food in our pantry. Based on that and the stuff in our fridge, pasta was pretty much all I could do. But who doesn’t love fettuccine Alfredo?
I gathered all of the ingredients I needed and got to work. I boiled a pot of water and while I waited for the pasta to cook, I started on the sauce.
It was an easy recipe that my mom showed me when I was younger. It was better with chicken, but we didn’t have any and I didn’t have time to go to the store.
I set the table for Dad’s friends, putting a beer at each place instead of a water.
I had just finished everything when the doorbell rang.
I rushed over to the door and opened it to my Dad’s old work friends. He used to be on the force, but when my Mom died, he started drinking and was deemed unfit to work.
“Hey there kiddo,” Don said in a way that sent a shiver down my spine. And not in a good way.
I nodded my head in greeting and the men all filed into the house. Dad brought them to the dining room where they all sat as I served them the pasta.
“This is it?” Dad growled.
He took the bowl of pasta and threw it at me. The glass hit me in the head and then fell to the floor, shattering.
“I said make something good. Not this crap!”
“I’m sorry,” I muttered. “There wasn’t much to work with. This was the best I could do.”
“Don, order a pizza. And you,” my dad directed at me, “clean this mess up and get out of my sight.”
I quickly got the trash can and threw away all of the pasta and glass on the floor. Some of the shards cut into my skin, but I hardly noticed.
Once I had that all picked up and the floor was mopped, I rushed up to the bathroom. I was covered in pasta sauce and I had a shard of glass in my head.
I dealt with the glass first, hissing as I pulled it out. Blood flowed, but not enough to concern me. I turned the shower on and got in, clothes and all.
Tears flowed down my face as I sat under the cold stream.
I don’t know how long I stayed there like that, but when I finally got out and dried off, it was dark outside.
I changed into some pajamas and climbed into bed, but I couldn’t sleep. I just laid there staring at the ceiling, watching the fan spin.
I was just starting to drift off when I heard some faint music. It wasn’t coming from my phone and Dad hated music so I didn’t know what it was.
I looked out my window and found the source. Bradley’s window was open and he was playing guitar in his bedroom.
I opened my window a little bit and let the music flow into my room.
It was beautiful.
I laid back in bed and fell asleep to Bradley’s guitar.
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