Royal Prick (A Stepbrother Romance #2)(2)

“Been there, done that.” I ignored the rest of whatever it was she had said. Therapy was a waste of time and money. Instead of focusing on the conversation at hand, I enveloped her small frame in a hug allowing her warmth to unthaw my cold heart. I had to remind myself everyday that she wasn’t the reason for my pain and she was the only constant in my life.

Moments of silence lingered between us. I was praying the conversation was over, and I was positive it was until I noticed she wasn’t returning the hug.

I should’ve known then that something was up. I felt dumb expressing my emotions and knowing they weren’t accepted. I pulled away from her, staring down at her, my tall frame looming over her small one. My hands balled into tight fists. I felt f*cking stupid expressing myself to her.

“I’ve made a decision on a few things, and I think it would be best if you went to live with your father for awhile. It might better your choices, and not only that, but it might give you a chance to rekindle that relationship?” Her voice wobbled as she spoke, as if she was afraid to even say something to me.

The air in my lungs froze, and my body flooded with the strongest desire to destroy than it ever had before. It was an instinct of mine to take and break the very things in front of me. My glare was icy cold as I forced myself to calm down.

“You’re f*cking insane!” So much for calming down.

I continued, “No let me rephrase that: you’re completely dumb to even think that would help in the slightest way.” I had to step away from her.

I was too afraid that I would do something stupid like lash out at her. Air filtered into my lungs, but it still felt as if I couldn’t breathe. I was suffocating. Everything seemed to be closing in around me; each breath bringing the walls closer together.

“I’m not going anywhere,” I refused, my eyes narrowing at her. The darkness that loomed around me was starting to take effect. It was so much easier to turn off the pain than it was to deal with it. I didn’t hate my father; hate wasn’t a good enough word for how I felt about him. No, I wanted nothing to f*cking do with him. The way he treated us, the way he treated my mother, the way he just completely abandoned us.

It was as if a knife was being stabbed into my chest. Each word she spoke causing the knife to dig in deeper and deeper, and the blood to pour from the wound. My teeth clenched together, my jaw aching from the force.

“It’s for the best, Royal. You can’t control yourself, and you need a male influence in your life. Someone that can clear your head and make you see things for what they really are.” I was distraught. How the hell could she believe seeing the man that made me this way and the pathetic ass family he left us for, would make my life easier or better in any way.

If anything it would make things worse. It would make me darker and more volatile than I currently was. I had control now, but seeing him and his perfect little family would take that control and throw it straight out the f*cking window.

“The one person I thought would never betray me has. You don’t know what I need, or what’s good for me.” A sinister laugh left my throat. It hurt me to breathe, to speak.

Control yourself, Royal. Don’t hurt her. It’s not her fault.

I spoke the words to myself as I forced myself into her space. It was my mother before me, the very woman who had given birth to me and taken care of me every single day of my life. I knew that. I could feel it in my heart, but when I looked at her, really looked at her all I saw was someone who wanted to get rid of me. Get rid of the problem.

“Sending me away is only going to make things worse. I’ll hurt more people. I’ll be more destructive. I’ll hurt him and his family. You’ll regret sending me to live with them every single day that I’m gone, and he will regret letting me into his home.” I didn’t recognize my own voice; there was too much venom in my words. Too much anger and pain.

Her blue eyes widened and flickered with fear. She should be afraid of the things I could and I would most definitely do if she pressed the issue any longer. But that flicker of fear was gone in a blink of her eyes, and in it’s place was something that broke me. I could tell you the moment things pieced together in her mind. The very second I had lost the battle.

There was a determination that she had never shown me before in her eyes, in her stance, in her. Everything about her seemed different.

“You’re going, Royal! You can threaten anyone and everyone else on this damn planet, but you cannot threaten me. I refuse to be bullied by anyone and most certainly by my own son.” She pointed her finger into my chest. I could feel the point of her nail digging into my chest.

“Even more, I don’t care if you don’t like it. Hell, I don’t even care if you hate me anymore, nor do I care what you have to say on the matter. None of it matters because you’re my child and I am your mother, and what I say goes. Therefore, you’re leaving and going to your father’s no matter what you have to say about it.” There was so much hurt in her words and it only proved my point further. It told me I was the reason for her pain, and that just added to the shit storm.

Mother or not, I didn’t have to listen to her, and there was no way I was f*cking going. The previous rage I was feeling shattered, escaping through me as I lifted my fist without warning.

How f*cking sad it was that I felt nothing. No pain, no fear, just pure rage. My fist slammed into the dry wall next to her head, pain radiating up my arm and throughout my body. That pain was my drug, my high, the only thing that would bring me the release I desperately needed. It calmed me just enough to remind me of the destruction I could cause. I stared her down, willing her to say something. I wanted her to. I wanted to hurt someone, with my fists or my words. Whichever came first, it didn’t matter. I pulled my fist from the drywall only to hit it again. I had a point to prove.