Chapter Six: Tyler: Why?
Why did he take that little shithead in?
Because she's clever, like him, Tyler. Never before had a woman gotten into a Fight Club meeting nor had she fought if she did. Natalee's got guts and for Tyler, that counted for something.
Tyler stuffed his hands into the front of his bathrobe, pondering the lissome young girl that made their dysfunctional, little "family" three people.
She was fucking. . . perfect when Tyler came to end of his thoughts. But he couldn't have her.
"I don't know what to do!" he growled, pounding his fists on the table.
"Oh, is Tyler losing his touch?" grinned Narrator, leaning against a door frame, "Not knowing what to do?"
"Shut the fuck up." Tyler raised an eyebrow coldly, "I don't know what to do with the little shithead girl now living in our house."
"What are we going to do?"
"Whatever we want."
"You care about her, don't you?"
"Hell no. I'll prove it."
Tyler ran up the steps and into his rooms where Natalee was pulling on a pair of his old boxers. He grabbed her and shoved her up against the wall, her head thumping against the plaster.
"Hello, bitch." He smiled, squeezing his hand around her throat. Her gray eyes narrowed and she made a choking noise.
"Tyler! You made your point!" Narrator rushed forward and pulled Tyler off Natalee.
"What the fuck is wrong with you, Tyler?" Natalee screamed, retreating to the corner of the room with scared eyes.
"Everything; every goddamn little thing."
Sorry for the short chapter. Couldn't have Tyler being soft now, could we?
Love,
Fel