"Just forget about him and get some sleep, you've had a hell of a night."
Branna kissed my head goodnight and left my room; I fell asleep almost straight away only to wake up what felt like minutes later to a throbbing pain in my hand. I moved it in my sleep and it hurt, so I got up and went downstairs and took some of the painkillers Branna collected for me from the night chemist in the hospital before we came home.
It wasn't dark outside; it was sort of bright, so I checked the time and saw it was a quarter to eight. I knew I didn't have to go to school, but I decided just to go anyway. It beat lying around the house all day doing nothin'.
I got dressed and carefully avoided my hand. I left my hair down in wavy mess, because I couldn't tie it up or plait it and left my face bare because I wasn't bothered enough to put any makeup on.
I got my bag, and popped my head into Branna's room only to find she was already gone. She must have had an early shift at the hospital, I thought, as I left my house and began the walk to school.
When I got there, it was business as usual. I was a ghost and took comfort in the peace and quiet of being ignored, until I stepped into my registration class and froze at what I saw.
"You have got to be fuckin' jokin' me!" I spat out loud.
Dominic snapped his head in my direction, away from her gaze to mine. He slowly stood up, took a step around Destiny and slowly moved towards me with his hands in the air in an I surrender motion. I took a step back and shook my head at him.
"Don't! Don't even fuckin' bother tryin' to talk your way out of it!" I snarled before I turned and stormed down the hallway towards the entrance of the school.
"Bronagh! It wasn't what it looked like, I swear it!" he shouted as he ran after me.
I laughed.
Yeah, fucking right.
He was about to kiss her, and we both fucking knew it.
I was so damn mad, the prick bent over backwards in destroying my life to get me to go out with him, and when I did, he attempted to cheat on me with his ex – or current for all I knew – fuck buddy not ten hours after we got together?
I stormed through the crowds of students and ignored Dominic's snarl for people to move out of his way. I flat-out ran when I got out of the school, I ran until I was in the middle of a quiet estate, and I was sure that Dominic wasn't following me.
It was only then that I noticed my hand was throbbing in pain, my chest was hurting me, and tears were streaming down my cheeks.
I wasn't sure which pain I was crying over though; both were pretty bad.
Where are you? I got a text from Ryder, Dominic said you ran out of school. Are you okay?
I sighed as I read my sister's text and hit reply.
I'm nearly at the house now; I just went on a long walk for most of the day. Talk to you in a few minutes, put the kettle on.
I pocketed my phone with a grunt, texting with my bad hand was harder than I thought it would be. I tugged my bag high up onto my shoulder and gazed around my road as I made the familiar trip down the path towards the gates of my garden.
I spotted Ryder's family Jeep in my garden, and I groaned. Great, just what I needed, having the brother of that arsehole in my presence.
"I'm home," I shouted when I entered my house and closed the door behind me. "I'm goin' to bed though-"
"Come into the kitchen first, hun," Branna's voice shouted over me.
I sighed, rubbed the bridge of my nose and walked into the kitchen.
"I know you want an explanation, but I can't deal with talkin' right now, I just want to-" I stopped talking and pretty much stopped breathing when I looked to the kitchen table and found Dominic sat at it with a cup of tea in his hands.
Was this son. Of. A. Bitch. Fucking with me?
I took in a really long, deep inhale before I exhaled and locked eyes with the ultimate prick. "You best be gettin' the fuck out of me house!"
"Bronagh!" Branna shouted in outrage at the same time Dominic snorted and said, "Or what, pretty girl?"
No one had time to move because I turned, grabbed a cup that was on the counter, turned back and hurled it full-forced at Dominic. It clocked him right on the head, and he let out a very masculine roar for an eighteen-year-old as he jumped up and grabbed his forehead with his hand. The poor cup was in pieces on the floor, but I didn't care. I totally succeeded at having fabulous aim with my weaker arm.
I wasn't finished though. I turned, picked up a plate - it had biscuits on it - that was also on the counter and hurled it at him. He, however, used his arm this time to block the blow. It still had to hurt though because the plate smashed into pieces when it made contact.
"Let me go!"