"I'm not going," I blurted out with fists tight and glared at the ground, unable to look him in the eyes to see anger swirling in them.
I heard footsteps and he came to stand in front of me. My eyes moved from my foot to his. He was wearing shining black boots that hid under his equally black pants.
His hand touched my face and brought it up to his. His eyes were like two black pools which hid the anger that was buried. He didn't like being disobeyed. But I just couldn't go to the party.
Even if the medication worked magic on me, and I feel so much better, I knew we would arrive late. And I wouldn't have enough sleep to take care of the next day which I was sure would be more hell than today.
"Look at me when you speak. Care to say that again?" He asked me. I wanted to tell him eve
