32
~Dylan’s POV
I was in my room getting irritated. My mother felt like she had control over me, her voice sharp, accusing, like she had every right to judge me. Every word she had thrown at me was still echoing in my head, and I could feel my blood pressure rise with every memory.
I heard the door open without a knock. My jaw tightened because only one person in this house entered rooms like that.
My mother.
I did not turn to face her at first. I just closed my eyes and breathed through the annoyance burning in my chest.
“Why are you in my room?” I asked, keeping my voice flat. I did not want a conversation. I did not want her presence. I just wanted silence.
She walked toward me, her heels clicking against the floor like she wanted each step to remind me that she owned this world,
