MICHAEL
My hands gripped the steering wheel tightly as I drove home, my mind still stuck on what had happened earlier; how my fist had collided with Adam's face. My fingers burned yet I didn't care, I was sick of him following me around like flies on dead meat!
I rolled into the entrance, Dad’s red Lamborghini Aventador was parked neatly at the corner, a clear sign he was home. That wasn’t good news, he wasn’t supposed to be home at this hour.
I got out of my car, slamming the door harder than necessary, anger still boiling inside me. When I looked up, my father was on the veranda upstairs staring down at me, a disapproving look on his wrinkled face. His hands rested on the railing waiting like a predator waiting for his prey to come to him.
I swallowed hard.
“Whatever!” I mumbled
