“Go away.” I push at his chest, and he moves back, but he’s a lot bigger than me. “Why can’t you just go away?” I shout at him, going to push him again when he grabs both my wrists in his hands, pushing them into the door beside my head. My chest rises and falls as we stare at each other with hatred. “I hate you,” I whisper. “I hate you.” His head comes even closer to me. “Not as much as I hate you,” he retorts, the both of us pant, and I don’t know who does it first. I don’t think either of us is ready for what is to come. I know I’m not.
