Even so, Christian didn’t care in the slightest. Instead, he glared at me and pointed his finger.
“I want you to make it! Why are you still mooching off my dad in this house, eating and sleeping here while doing absolutely nothing? That’s your job!”
I stared at him silently for a few seconds, then turned and walked into the kitchen.
I warmed the milk and handed it to him. He barely took a sip before he threw it on the floor.
Warm milk splashed all over my shoes, and shards of glass nicked my leg.
“It’s too hot!Do you want to burn me to death? You vicious woman” he snapped.
I knew he did it on purpose. He always did. For years, he never once accepted me. He never saw me as anything more than the help.
For five years, I treated him like he was my own. No matter how cruel he was, I never brought myself to hate him. But all I got in return was escalating abuse.
“What are you staring at? Don’t just stand there, clean it up!”
My fists clenched at my sides. I glanced at him but said nothing, turning to leave.
“Are you deaf?! I told you to clean it up!” he again shouted.
Before I could respond, Sebastian’s voice came from the front door. “What’s going on in here?”