"I said move, you lying little piece of shit," Dylan snarled, as he violently yanked me out of my bedroom.
I stumbled, my bare feet dragging against the hardwood, nearly tripping over my own scattered clothes."Let go of me! Dylan, stop, you're hurting me!" I choked out.
Tears were already blurring my vision. My voice sounded small, pathetic, and I hated how it echoed in the hallway.
I caught my reflection in the passing glass of a framed painting. My pale skin flushed hot red, my lips parted and trembling. I looked like a victim. I looked exactly how Dylan wanted me to look. Broken, and completely at his mercy.
"Shut the fuck up," Dylan spat, throwing a glance back at me. His eyes had that scary, look they always got whenever he was obsessed with breaking me. "You're done, Eli. You hear me? Fucking done."
Behind us, Lucas walked out of the room, texting on his phone, the casual nonchalance back on his face but his eyes kept tracking every move.
