Harold
“That stupid pup did what?!” I demand, throwing my glass of whisky into the wall in front of me. The maid flinches, and the scent of fear wafting from her fills the room, adding to my annoyance.
“He...he took that w***e that snuck into his truck to his mother’s greenhouse,” she reiterates, her voice shaking with every word. I snarl in frustration, turning towards the maid and striking her across the face. The impact of my palm against her cheek sends her sprawling to the floor, her body landing with a loud thud.
“Do you know what a rhetorical question is?!” I ask, grabbing her by the hair and raising her head so she’s forced to look me in the eye. The maid nods frantically, letting out small whimpers as tears begin to fall from her eyes. “Then get the f**k out and don’t come back
