Page 141 of His Big Bad Stick

“Sleeping peacefully.”

“Does she know her shirt is missing?”

“It’s not missing. It’s right there on the bed.”

Chad smirks.

“She drink too much?”

“Enough,” he says. “Got some extra help. My cousin gave me something. Works like magic.”

Abrielle makes a slight groaning noise.

“Listen to her already,” Chad says.

He licks his lips.

I watch as his left hand reaches down for Abrielle.

I don’t remember running toward Chad.

It’s like my mind goes blank.

It returns just as I grab Chad’s left hand and twist is behind his back.

I keep twisting until I hear a loud popping sound, knowing I broke his wrist.

When he starts to scream, that gets attention.

Soon the room gets flooded with people.

The lights are turned on.

Someone yells ‘FIGHT!’ and even more people show up.

This isn’t a fight though.

Chad is in tears from the broken wrist.

I could stop right then and there…

No.

I grab Chad by the back of his neck and I drag him toward the window.

Chad is thrashing as best he can. He’s in a ton of pain with his hand just dangling, disconnected from the wrist.

I have nothing to say to Chad.

I’m not going to play the hero card.

I want him to suffer. The thought of what he was about to do… to Abrielle… and she’d have no recourse. No chance to tell anyone. Nobody would give a flying fuck about it or about her.

She’s gone in more ways than one already.

Everything is pent up inside my body right now.

“Dude, don’t throw him out the window!”

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