Alexandria

How could Bryce spew hateful, threatening things one minute and sound suave and debonair the next? Each word he uttered had me on the edge of my figurative seat, fearful of the other shoe dropping.

Placing my hand in his, I stood, searching for an out. I turned back to his mother. "Suzanna?"

Bryce's fingers wrapped around my hand, squeezing tighter and tighter.

"Yes?" she answered.

"Have a nice evening."

"Thank you, dear. I'm ...