Subject Me To Love [Book Two]

Chapter Eight

*Not edited*Not Proofread*

(I haven't slept and I'm very tired, so sorry if this is terrible, lol)

Chapter 8– Just leave that to me:

"You're not going to break my fingers again are you?" He asks with sarcasm, leaning back against his sofa, his elbows on his knees, his fingers entwined in front of his mouth.

        "You're fucking lucky I don't cut them off," I snap hatefully. Ricky rolls his eyes which further increases my anger. "Now," I say, sitting down on the coffee table in front of where he sits. I take out the gun from the waistband of my jeans and hold it on top of my knee, watching as his eyes go straight to it and widen. "I'm going to ask questions, you're going to answer. We've done this before, so I'm sure you remember the rules. Although this time I'm switching it up a little," I take the safety off my gun. "Every question you don't answer, you're getting a bullet. And trust me, I have loads of them."

        "What is this about?" He demands. "You can't just waltz into my fucking home and threaten me," he goes to stand but I kick him back down, pointing the tip of my gun at his forehead as I rise from my seated position.

        Leaning down to him, I press the muzzle harder into his skin, twisting it slightly. He grits his teeth, looking up at me through his eyelashes, but doesn't make a move. "I can do whatever the fuck I like. And right now, I want nothing more than to leave a hole right between your fucking eyes, so don't push me," I grit through my teeth. It's stupid of me to have the gun so close to his head when my mind is in a frenzy with different voices all shouting and screaming the same thing; to kill him. But I can't help myself sometimes. He just really pisses me off.

        Holding eye contact for a while longer, he finally gives in, heaving out a defeated sigh. "Fine. Fine! But I answered all your questions last time. I don't know what more I can tell you."

        I shake my head, taking a seat. "It's a different matter this time." His eyebrow furrows and he looks confused. He's either playing dumb or he's genuinely fucking stupid. "I'm not here about Dakota."

        "Then who?"

        "Lilah."

        His eyebrows furrow further and his head flinches back faintly. "Lilah? Why the fuck would you be here about her?"

I wet my bottom lip as I shake my head, annoyance seeping into my pores. I get up, walking around to pace in the empty space between the coffee table and the TV mounted to the wall, gun still in my hand. "Don't piss me off," I tell him as I continue to pace, hoping to walk out the tension in my bones. Either that or I shoot him.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

Between him talking and the voices screaming, my head spins and throbs as an ache behind my eyes starts to form. The hand that holds my gun rubs at my temple. Fucking headaches. "I think you do."

"Lets pretend that I don't," he reasons. "Explain it to me."

"Lets pretend your life actually means something and you value it enough to not fuck me off right now."

He shakes his head, his hands resting on either side of him. "I honestly don't know what you're on about. I haven't seen or spoken to Lilah in... God, I don't even know how long." He genuinely looks baffled. "Kody, I'm not lying to you."

"I don't believe you. Shut up," I snap back, coming to a stand still. "Who did you tell about what happened?"

For the first time, he looks like he has a clue. "Mac. When he found out what happened he broke two more fingers for being weak," he lets out a humourless chuckle. "But what's that got to do with Lilah?"