What? Who does he think he is?
I froze for a second, staring at him. His anger looked like it was barely under control, ready to explode any second. That look in his eyes—so convinced, so determined to get his way—it even had this creepy possessiveness to it that made my skin crawl.
"Ronald Wright, have you completely lost it?"
What was even coming out of his mouth right now? Was he drunk or what? He only had a couple of sips earlier, shouldn’t be enough to mess him up like this.
"Yeah, maybe I am losing it," Ronald’s jaw was tight as hell, his voice low and cold like it came straight from deep in his chest. He stared at me, his eyes sharp and cold. "Every time we fight, it’s like my head’s getting smashed in by a hammer. The pain’s unbearable, every damn time. What did I do
