There’s a small sniffle from the other side. It’s barely audible, but I hear it. “I can’t…”
Her voice sounds small and broken. I’ve never been good with tears. I don’t like the overwhelming emotions or the sniveling sounds that follow, but hearing her cry makes my stoic nature soften a fraction. I don’t care for her, but I don’t want her sobbing through my door.
I sigh, standing from my spot on the floor. “Come in.”
The door creaks open slowly, golden hair poking in as her wide eyes bounce around the darkness of my room. I have a red light on, bathing the scene in ominous light. I like to work in it while I clean my bones. She takes in everything with open intrigue, her gaze bouncing from the heavy metal posters all over my walls to the dark duvet covering my bed. She steps inside, her pink pajamas turning a dark shade under the red glow.
“Don’t touch anything,” I instruct as I pick the tub up and set it on top of the wide altar table.
She nods. “Do you want me to stay here?”
I tilt my chin in the direction of my desk’s chair. “Sit there.”
She complies, easing onto the squeaky leather as her feet dangle. She places her hands on the seat, kicking her legs as she examines my altar. “What are you doing?”
Small talk.
Something I’m not good at.
“What does it look like?” I ask, my tone snippy.
Her head tilts, those curls falling over her shoulder. “Are they real?”
Sarcasm grasps my throat, choking the words from me before I can stop them. “No. I spent years arranging plastic replicas for the aesthetic. Of course they’re real.”
A small chuckle tumbles from her, the sound light and carefree. It makes me pause, my hand half inside the tub as I blink at her.
“You’re funny,” she muses softly.
I shake my head, going back to situating the bones inside the tub. “That wasn’t meant to be funny.”
“Why don’t you like me?”
I’m not expecting her question, but I don’t walk on eggshells to appease others. It isn’t in my nature, so I answer truthfully. “I don’t like anyone.”
“Why?”
I make a rough sound in the back of my throat. “Do you ever stop talking?”
“I like talking to you.”
I whip around to her, my face becoming impassive. I’ve never met someone so determined to get close to me. It’s infuriating.Stupid. “You don’t know me.”
She pops a shoulder gently. “I want to get to know you.”
My jaw grinds. “No, you don’t. No one ever does.”
That somber note is back in her eyes, making her sunny features dip. Her fingers roll the end of her pajama shirt as she stares at me. When she speaks, her tone is gentle and warm. “Then they’re missing out.”
“Get out,” I command. “Go back to your room.”
“Kaden—”
“Leave me alone,” I bite harshly.
She slinks dejectedly off the chair, turning to look at me over her shoulder as she pads towards the door. When I don’t beg for her to come back, she leaves me with an echoed click of the door.
As I stand fuming in the middle of my room, I don’t feel an ounce of that serenity anymore. It’s withered away to something hollow and empty.
