BABYSITTING MY BULLY

DA

han two men, closing behind me like a trap. Like the final nail in the coffin of my old life. My dad ha

trying to focus on the biting chill of the Aurelia evening instead of the tremor in my hands. New mission: survive the Sterlings. N

sneakers scuffed against the pristine surface, leaving tiny, defiant marks. The house itself wasn't a house; it was a fortress of glass a

e distant hum of city traffic – a sound I suddenly missed with an ache in my chest. I knocked again, harder. Stil

ecause of course there'd be one – the door swung open. Not by Mrs. Ste

es Ste

ormy sea. He was wearing a dark blue varsity jacket with a gleaming 'S' on the chest, a white t-shirt stretched over a chest that looked like it could stop a truck, and r

weak at the knees. For me, it just made my hackles rise. "Look what the cat dragged in. Or rathe

tighter. "Unlike some people, Charles, I actually respect my obliga

over me, from my worn-out jeans to my faded hoodie. I felt naked under his gaze, even though I wa

n't pretend this is about respect, Darcie. This is about staying out of

is about you not flunking out of senior year, Sterling. So, unless you want to lose you

I couldn't quite decipher – annoyance? Surprise? It was gone befo

ud on the marble. My mother has an allergi

d to suppress. The house was even bigger on the inside. A grand staircase swept upwards, chandeliers sparkled like captured stars, and silence-a h

he quiet. "You're not a guest, Miller. You're an accessory. My father's latest atte

unding, but I forced myself to stand tall. "We'll s

ack, a sign of weakness. "Oh, you will be," he whispered, his voice dangerously low. "Trust me.

g. I'm a survivor. You're just a spoile

be a long, brutal year. But if Charles Sterling thought he could break me, he had another thing coming. I h