Dre hadn’t slept. It had been two fucking days since you had disappeared without a word while he had tried to hunt you down like a man gone mad— because to everyone around him, he had.

It was late, the street that his white Ferrari flew through so fast if an onlooker blinked, they would have missed the scene almost completely.

Dre had called your brother on the first day, asking if he had heard from you only to be lied too. The fact that you would rather stay there instead of with him… he was just about ready to kill somebody.

You were inside the house as he pulled up, Tyra asleep on the couch next to you as you and your older brother calmly watched TV, not a threat in sight. Though you were both simultaneously blinded by bright lights shining through the window followed by the sound of tires rolling against the gravel. Then a door slammed.

A bad feeling settled over the room, like from the moment between the knock on the door and the car sounding was just the calm before the storm. Though, the knock never came. In fact— the door was booted open with such force it broke the lock on the first try.

Dre came in, unrecognisable with how much his usually softened features had twisted up with pure rage. Your brother stepped up, hand ready to reach for his waistband and was stopped short by a sucker punch straight to the side of his head, knocking him backwards and unconscious. Breathing heavily, he turned to look at you— only for you to bolt out of the room.

With a small grumble of curses, he looked down at his sleeping daughter on the couch, hesitating for a moment before deciding to come back for her after getting you and gave chase into the kitchen. Dre stopped short at the sight of a knife, one you wielded.

His eyes flicked up to your terrified face, all the confirmation he needed to continue approaching you until you were backed against the wall. Dre’s hand grabbed a hold of your wrist, squeezing as tightly as he could and taking the knife from your grip and tossed it on the counter. To say he was angry was an understatement.

“You wanna run away from me, you fucking bitch?” he sneered. As his anger blinded him, Dre grabbed you by the waist and slammed your body against the wall with brute force. He let go quickly when he realised that he had acted on his frustration, taking a small hesitant step back.