#56480 - Again and again and drew back a little way and slammed forwards once more, building pace, building rhythm. I hated Erika, I hated her for the way she treated me and my dad (like an ill behaved child and a cash machine respectively), for the way she tried to act the mother when my dad was around and for treating the house I grew up in like her own private fiefdom. I didn’t answer and she must have taken that for a yes because she followed up with “Go and do your homework or something, I’m busy; and don’t you think about sitting on the sofa after being out in rain like that!” Wordlessly I stalked off towards my room.
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