The Bully's Princess

CHAPTER THIRTEEN - PETER'S SECRETS EXPOSED

The silent grave sound was more than what Peter could bear, but he kept mute. This was beyond him. He stood rigidly, anticipating the attack he knew was sure to come. His father stood with his normal drunken haze, the slurry dance in his feet that Peter was all too aware of. He watched his father’s hands, which were sure to start throwing things at him in a second. Peter stylishly moved back two feet, his hands nervously playing with the handle of Dahlia’s bag on his shoulder. But it seems like his father was not interested in that.

"I saw the pretty bike in front of the house. Your principal must like you a lot. " His father said that after dropping down on a sofa, he attempted to put his leg on the center table, but cursed loudly when he noticed that he had pushed it away from him earlier. He dragged the chair closer, placing his dirty boots on it. Peter sighed, stepping further back at the smell they produced.

"Pa, you ought to put off your shoes on the rack." He groaned, watching in irritation as his father’s poor hygiene. Not that he ever had any.

The response Peter got to this was a swift throw of the shoes at his head. He dodged it as he saw the shoes coming. It seemed they were not held tightly. No doubt the alcohol dulled his aim.

"Pa, you need to go to your room." You can’t sleep here. " Peter was beyond exasperated. Dahlia was just in the next room. It would be hell if her parents started looking for her. But it seems his father was not yet done with questioning him.

You know, I met that proud principal of yours at the pub. Mr. Blythe continued, to Peter’s horror.

Peter was not interested in his drunken talk. Whatever Principal Lancester did after school was none of his business.

"He told me he got you a bicycle and that I should let you keep it." Mr. Blythe laughed ridiculously and looked around for a bottle of drink, but there was none.They were all broken on the floor.

" He told you he got me a bicycle?" Peter was shocked. He acted like it was top secret, then he spilled to his father, "What was that man’s deal? He was going to lie to his father that the bicycle belonged to a kid from another apartment. even though it was parked in their space.

"Yes, he did. I wondered why he felt the need to have to tell me to allow you to keep it. Have you been talking to the kid? " Peter stared at his father cautiously. He was clearly sober now. His eyes rested on Peter’s scared form.

"No.... No.. I haven’t been saying anything." He cursed inwardly. Dahlia was inside. Thank goodness she was quiet in there. But no doubt she was listening to everything. He could not let his father know she was in there.

"Very good of you, because the very day you do that, you can pack your things and leave my house. I will be very glad to register you in an orphanage. " Mr. Blythe threatened, to Peter’s chagrin. But he nodded nonetheless.

He had a lot of questions to ask that man. Why had Principal Lancester talked to his father? This was getting complicated. Well, it was not like the outside world knew how his father treated him.

"Hey boy, what are you thinking?" Mr. Bylthe's called. "Clean this place up. I will have guests coming in soon. "

"Guests? Pa, you never have guests? " Peter asked curiously. He half expected the other shoe to be thrown at him, but his father forfeited that and hoisted himself to his feet instead.

Is your mother leaving me like the thieving w***e that she is? Am I supposed to be a priest and wait for her return? I have been taking my girls out, but now I am bringing them in here. Mitchie’s pub girls have everything I want in a woman. Make sure you come back from school early so you can partake in the fun. "

Peter rejected the offer as swiftly as it came. "That is not what you are supposed to tell a high school student. You are supposed to tell me to keep away from pub joints at my age."

"And why will I do so? You are a grown up lad now, and handsome too. Please do use your handsomeness to attract girls to you. Well, only the one that can give you money, not those money sucking ones like your mother. "

His father never blamed himself for his misfortune, only others.

"Yes, she is. She left me because of money after all.

"No, she left because you were too abusive and controlling," Peter shouted, letting his emotions get the better of him.

"I can see you are scratching for a beating because that principal of yours is supporting you right. I will be sure to teach you a lesson. I will not give you a single drop of the money I recently got my hands on. " Mr. Blythe made an open threat.

Peter was puzzled, "What money? Pa?"

"I'm not telling you son, you keep your principal, and I keep the new money I'm making because of your existence."

He had thought it was just as he had thought. Something was up with his father. He could only hope it was not a loan shark he got the money from. But he was confident because no decent man in WesternSide would lend his father money.How his father still managed to stay employed was nothing short of a miracle.

"Pa,"

"Pa"

He called, but his father ignored him and went into his room. Peter followed him gingerly. He made sure his father was asleep, and with the help of the drinks, he slept deeply too. Peter dug his hands into his pockets and searched for the money on him. But his pocket was drained dry. There was nothing but his identity card; not even his bank card was on him.

He went searching through the drawers, gasping as he saw the stash of cash that was neatly arranged in each one. He opened all the drawers.

Just what was this? No wonder his father had been spending freely. Just where was he getting so much money?

He turned to look at his father sleeping on the bed. He wondered how someone could be so mean and self-centered. Was he even human?

Peter slammed himself mentally as the thought entered his mind. This was his father, not a stranger. One shouldn’t think of family in such a regard.

He knew just what he had to do. He took two cash stacks from his pocket and closed the drawers, praying to infinity that his father would not discover it was missing.

But something his father said bothered him " and I will stick to the new money I am making thanks to your existence." That statement was suspicious.

He would worry about that later. Dahlia was still in the room and she was too quiet for his liking.

Peter went into his room, laughing at what he saw. She was sleeping soundly in his bed. This was what he was jealous of; the fact that she could sleep so soundly without a care in the world, knowing fully well that she had someone watching after her. Peter sighed, closing the door. He would never know how that felt.

He decided and left the room. He had tons of cleaning to do. Smoothly, he picked up all the bottles, cleaned the table, and put the vacuum cleaner to work . 'Done with that. He went to take his bath, changed his clothes, aware of the ticking time. Princess Dahlia needed to leave his room before her mother came crashing through the walls on him, but Princess Dahlia took that moment to stretch her limbs and legs wrapped in his duvet.

He smiled, liking what he saw. He moved closer to her and watched her face, so calm and beautiful, so gentle since her mouth was moving fast to argue with him. Her shirt had ridden up. The first two buttons of the shirt were open to his gaze. He could see the creamy flesh of her cleavage. Peter quickly helped her straighten her shirt. His hands moved to button the shirt.

The loud sound of a crash in the living room made him jump. He lost his footing and landed on his face. Dahlia gave a squeal from sleep. Peter hurriedly covered her mouth with his hands. Her scream could wake his father up.

Her large eyes were concentrated on him now. shining beautifully.

"What were you doing, Peter?"

"Nothing," he said, hurriedly straightening up. " Come on, stand up; you should go off to Granny Jane now."

"And your dad?" She asked a little too quietly, resting her head properly on the pillow, as if she had no intention of leaving.

"He is asleep, so you can leave now."

"Are you okay?" He almost thought he had imagined it, but he was not. She was staring deeply at him. Her eyes were searching out his soul, searching out his deepest fears and secrets.

"Dahlia" He said slowly in a warning tone. Something about her pales eyes and white skin made him pause. She looked sick. Almost, but she smiled again, playing with his imaginations.

"You keep it all secret. You allowed him to abuse you to that extent. You act tough all the time and keep your father’s true behaviour a secret. "

"That isn’t any of your concern. You don’t get to sleep on my bed and question me about my life. Never. " He knew she was clever; she had heard every single interaction he had with his father for her to know. He was no precious gem to his father like she was to her own parents.

"You don’t have to be so defensive, Peter Blythe." She coaxed. placing her hands under his chin. He slapped it off. She squealed, sending him a stony glare.

"Don’t touch me," he warned. But she made no reply, she put away the duvet in annoyance.

She said this while looking for her schoolbag.

"It's not like he has not done it before," he muttered, unable to stop himself from answering her, not when she said it with so much concern. It was so hard to find someone who cared about his injuries. Others just simply thought he had entered into a fight with his fellow bad friends.

"I heard it all. "I heard the sound of the shoes and bottles being broken," she said sympathetically. Pity, pity, that was what he did not want to hear.

Peter stood up, dragging her up with him. " You really ought to leave, otherwise your mother might truly arrest me, if she finds out that you are with me and I do have a future to protect."

Her baby eyes sparked up at that, "What’s that?"

"Nothing," he said, ignoring her question. She was becoming too bothersome to keep in his room.

He gasped when he felt the cold touch of her hands on his neck. Her hands were freezing.He gasped. The heater He had turned it off because of his father’s negligence in paying the electricity bill. Horror filled his gaze. He dragged her close and began rubbing her hands with his warm ones.

She tried to drag it off, but he held firm. "Stay still, I was not joking about your mother arresting me. She really hates me. Let’s not give her more than one thing to hate me about."

She was lost in his touch; her eyes were fixed on him intently.

"Won't you go home to your mummy?" He mocked, still rubbing her hands with his. He was lost in her gaze as he moved his hands up her shoulders and to her neck, her hair rumpled from her stay in his bed, and she was looking so innocently beautiful.

"You don’t want me to go" She said, such a clever mouth. Maybe he liked the feel of her in his arms. Maybe he liked the way her shirt was lacking two buttons at the top. The way her jeans fit smugly against her body frame.

Peter allowed himself to be the bad boy he was so badly named for. Her mother could go haywire, but for now, he had to kiss her first. Maybe he could give love as well. He wanted so badly to be loved by somebody. And if that person was Dahlia, he would not shy away.

And that was exactly what he did. He bent his head and kissed her, slowly at first, then he gradually claimed all of her mouth. Not that Dahlia minded, she was just a happy participant following his lead as he kissed her. She pushed her hands into his hair at her height of passion. Peter groaned as he allowed himself to go deep into kissing her. His lips were so inviting and soft that he could chew on them for hours.He could drink her in, but the sound of a car driving into the garage downstairs made him stop, pulling his mouth free from hers.

But not before she dragged him down again. He allowed his mouth to connect with hers. She leaned into him, her hands playing with his shoulders. She wanted their bodies to touch. His hands on the tip of his shirt got him thinking fast. He placed his hands on hers immediately.

"We have to stop," he groaned, not liking her needy look. She tried again to lift up his shirt. Peter stopped her. She had no idea what she was asking for. He vowed not to be like his father and get a woman pregnant out of wedlock. That was exactly what got his life to where it is now. The main reason why his mother could leave unhindered and unshackled by the child she never wanted And Dahlia was just a teenage girl.

"Why?"

"You are really writing a death wish for me, Dahlia." He helped her straighten her clothes that had rumpled up during their tryst. He took her school bag and led her out of the apartment. She didn’t utter a word, but he could tell she was pissed. The girl did not even know what she was asking of him.

He couldn’t do more than kiss her or make out with her. That was all it was ever going to be between them. She had a future, and so did he. So he had her delivered to Granny Jane’s doorstep looking all flushed with swollen lips and properly kissed.