Yes by RJ Lawrence

 
    Chapter 1
     
     
     
    By
the time his Mercedes pushed into the driveway, it was too late. The plans in
her mind had cemented, and now there was just the goodbye. After all the lonely
nights and gray, sugarless days, she'd finally made her choice. To hell with
him and to hell with this two-dimensional, colorless life. The world called,
and she would resist no more.
    His
key sunk into the deadbolt and it gave way with a twist. She watched him enter,
his tie loose, stomach bulging against his unkempt shirt. He dropped his keys
on the table, the metal splashing audibly and adding a fresh abrasion to the
varnished wood. On any other day, she'd have winced at the way he treated her
mother's table. But, today, her thoughts were light and deliciously selfish.
    He
looked up and grunted, his face slick with sweat.
    "Goddamit,
Hannah, it's 100 degrees out there," he said. "Why in the hell is the
thermostat set so high?"
    She
put her sunglasses on and lifted her suitcase, her slight jaw as rigid as he
had ever seen it. He straightened and took a step forward.
    "Oh,
here we go," he said. "What's this about? You get your feelings hurt
over something again?"
    Hannah
took a step toward the massive man before her.
    "Get
out of my way, Ronnie. I'm done with all this."
    He
put his palm flat against the open door and pushed it shut.
    "No,"
he said. "That's not how it is at all, actually."
    He
dusted his hands together and looked from side to side.
    "You
go ahead and take that suitcase back to the bedroom and swallow a Valium or
something. I'm tired as fuck, and I don't have the patience for all this
dramatic female shit."
    She
swallowed the void in her throat and took another step forward.
    "I'm
not kidding, Ronnie. You can say whatever you want, but I've made up my
mind."
    He
smirked.
    "Alright,
sweet lips, I'll play your little game," his face grew quizzical and he
turned his palms up. "Where you gonna go? How are you gonna pay your
way?"
    The
suitcase handle bit into her fingers, and her shoulder began to burn.
    "I'll
find a way. I don't want your help. I can get by on my own."
    He
shook his head and chuckled.
    "Well,
that's good, because you won't get anything from me," he said.
    He
scratched his stomach and thought for a moment.
    "Honestly,
Hannah, why do you want to go this route? Just take the Valium. Then you can go
in the kitchen and cook something up. We'll sit down and talk about this at the
dinner table after you get your senses together."
    She
approached him, his gigantic figure seeming to grow larger with each step. He
looked down at her, and she raised her chin to meet his gaze.
    "I'm
leaving for good. That's it. You can kill me or let me go."
    He
took a step back and leaned against the door, the entire thing disappearing
behind his hulking frame.
    "Kill
you or let you go," he said, as he tapped his finger against his chin. He
studied the ground for a moment, his mind swimming in thought. She waited, her
heart tapping against the inside of her chest, palms bleeding sweat. Finally,
his eyes trickled upward and he grinned, as if truly amused by a thought his
own.
    "You're
going out to Vegas to live with that whore sister of yours, that it?"
    She
said nothing while he studied her delicate facial features, his jaw muscles
undulating, as he clenched back a growing rage.
    "I'll
tell you what Hannah," he said as he moved away from the door, his body
swelling before her, a shadow falling over her slight frame. "Killing you
would be the nice thing to do." He put his massive hand on her arm,
engulfing it whole. "I'm gonna do worse. I’m gonna let you go."
    He
gave a hard squeeze and she nearly buckled from the pain. Then he released her
and stood aside, arms crossed, his brutish facial features arranged in an
expression of disgust.
    She
took her opportunity without waste, opening the door and moving swiftly through
past him. But before she could clear the threshold, he had her again, his
thick, hairy fingers gathering a clump of her