One Week Girlfriend - By Monica Murphy Page 0,62

so overwhelmingly strong I'm dizzy with it. I hate that woman for what she's done to Drew. How she continues to torture him. She's disgusting. She's a fucking child molester who should be in jail, for the love of God, how she took advantage of Drew.

I hate her with everything inside of me.

"We need to go," I say against his chest, my voice muffled. I pull away so I can look up at him, notice that his face is completely devoid of emotion. He's in shutdown mode and I can't chastise him since he's most likely using it as a coping mechanism.

The minute we get back home, I'm telling him he needs to go to a professional therapist. Get what happened to him out of his mind once and for all. Not that he can ever let his past experiences go for good, but he can at least talk to someone. Seek help so he can better cope with everything.

"Drew." I shake his arms and his eyes focus on me once more. "We need to leave. Now."

"You're right. Let's go."

I run to my room and toss everything in my bag, then zip it up. I grab my purse, my sweatshirt I'm going to wear and glance around the room, making sure I haven't left anything.

Really wouldn't matter if I did. I so want out of here, I don't even care.

I wait for Drew in the living room, keeping watch out the window, my gaze zeroed in on the main house. They haven't left yet for whatever they planned to do to mourn Vanessa's death. I see the Range Rover parked out in the drive, as if Drew's dad pulled it out earlier in preparation. At least it's not blocking Drew's truck.

Thank God.

"Do you want to say goodbye to your dad?" I ask when he comes into the living area, his bag slung over his shoulder, his expression still somewhat blank.

He slowly shakes his head. "I'll text him. Have they left yet?"

"No." The panic is blatant in my voice and I clear my throat, irritated with myself. "Drew, I don't think it's a good idea if we go over there..."

"I don't either," he interrupts.

Relief sweeps through me and we head out to his truck with hurried steps, my movements downright frantic as I toss my bag into the narrow back seat of his extended cab. He climbs into the truck the same time I do and we slam our doors in unison, Drew jabbing the key into the ignition.

We're so close to being out of here, I can almost taste it. I've never been so happy to leave a place as I am at this very moment.

"Andrew!"

I jerk my head to the left, watch in disbelief as Adele runs toward the truck, stopping at the driver's side door. She's smacking the glass with her fist, yelling for him to roll down the window and he stares at her, his hand on the gear shift, ready to put the truck in reverse.

"Don't do it," I murmur. "Don't open the window. She doesn't deserve your attention anymore, Drew."

"What if she tells my dad?" His voice is small, he sounds like a little boy and my heart breaks for him. His pain has become mine.

"Who cares? You're not wrong in this situation. She is."

Keeping his head bent, he reaches out and hits the button so the window slowly rolls down. "What do you want?" he asks her coldly.

"Just...please come with us. I want you there, Andrew." She flicks her cold, hard gaze at me briefly and I stare back. Just as cold, just as hard.

I want to tear her apart I hate her so much.

"I already visited her grave yesterday. I paid my sister my respect. What more do you want from me?" His voice is like ice, his glare just as frosty as he turns it on her and it's like she's completely oblivious.

"There's so much more you don't know and I - I need to tell you. Privately. It's important, Andrew. Please."

"Stop calling him that." I can't help it, I have to make her stop. I can't stand the way she says his full name.

"It's his name." Her voice is flat. "And who the hell are you to tell me what to do?"

"Don't talk to her like that." His low voice is a warning, but still doesn't seem to affect Adele.

"She's nothing, Andrew. Worthless. Why do you spend time with her? Is she good in bed? Does she spread her legs for