Page 25 of Collateral Damage

“Eat. I won't tell you again.” She interrupts my thoughts, shifting her carved out diamonds towards the plate in front of me waiting for me to eat and I finally take a bite.These are actually really good….

She is staring at me contently as I guiltily enjoy these pancakes.

C H A P T E R 16

LOVE IS WEAKNESS

Puppeteer

“You can keep that.” I taunt, looking her up and down before drinking the last of my nowcoldcoffee. I must admit, I never get tired of seeing her drowning in my overly large clothes, I can excuse the lack of water just this once. I forgot how short she is. She looks down at my black tee, scolding in disagreement but I think secretly she likes it too. She's scoffing my food like a beggar and I'm internally grinning at how stupidly adorable she looks trying to pretend she doesn't like it.

I make banging pancakes.

“Wow, thanks. Howkindof you.” Her sarcasm angers me as much as it amuses me and that fucking word is not letting up. She's a tough cookie when she's not crumbling. I'm not sure where exactly we stand right now but I'm hoping for her sake she realises that this is for her benefit. Does she think I enjoy keeping her cooped up like an animal?No.But she hasn't exactly been the easiest to work with. I don't hurt women. All I've ever done is protect them. Well… Tried. Maybe that's why my instincts took over when she tried to hurt herself.Because of me. I clench my jaw slightly at the thought. This all goes against everything I fucking believe in, but she gives me no choice. The quicker she works with me the quicker this will be over, and she can go back to whatever life is waiting for her outside my walls.Her humour has started to peep back in and she's glaring at my empty cup like she wants some.

“You want one?” I'm trying to treat her more like a guest than a hostage, I guess I'm delusional and probably far too lenient for my own good.

“No. Thank you.” She finishes off her last mouthful and puts the plate down gently on the side.She actually finished it all.Before walking past me towards the table and her scent is intoxicating. It's far better than the stale must of death.

“Offers there.”

She takes her insulin as instructed like a good girl. Facing away, talking towards the wall at me as I dish a bowl for Shep.

“So what now. You think because we shared a bed that we arefriends?” Friends are the last thing I want out of this. She's a victim, my hostage. Myplaything. It's sweet that she's thinking about friendship, although I know she's being sarcastic.

“I don't dofriends.” I rock on my feet. Gripping the side of the counter before pushing off to open up the fridge.

“Good. Neither do I.” Uncertainty laces her words. A false security. She sounds like me, the little girl inside of me that would beg for friendship and come up short, betrayed and left on my own. I built a wall and told myself I was ok with being alone when really I craved company. She leans against the chair staring at the grooves in the wood between her feet which only confirms my suspicions.

I pull out a beer. Offering her one but she shrugs, turning her nose up.

“I don't drink.” She means.She's never had a drink.Her purity runs so deep even angels cannot compete. I close the fridge door, shrugging off her decision, remembering when she craved alcohol to numb her pain as I turn to face her, opening the cap with my ring as I cross my arms and legs, leaning my lower back into the ridge of the counter.

“What's his name?” She gestures to my little tornado, chowing down on his beef and I already know where this is going. I’m about to be replaced. She’s already clung to him but I was expecting that. It might mellow her out a bit, it’s why I let him sleep in there last night.

“Shep.”She pulls her lips in, trying not to find amusement in that. Yes it’s basic as fuck, but I’m a simpleton. Ain’t got time for that shit.“So what do you do?” I ask boldly as she cuddles herself, protecting her body, glaring at me in confusion, most likely wondering why I am asking such a normal question.

“What do you mean?”

“You must have things you like to do.Friendless.” I emphasise the friendless to remind her that that's exactly what she is searching for and it worries me that I'm asking questions to learn more about her when she means fuck all to me.

“If you must know… I like to write.” I wasn't expecting her to actually tell me, but now she has, her bedroom makes a lot more sense, as does her want to escape reality. She lives in the clouds just to get through the day. We all have our ways of coping and sometimes putting your mind somewhere else is the only way to get past the loneliness.

“You're aDreamer.” I wonder what she dreams about. I'd love to pick at her brain. Writing is led by incessant amounts of creativity we cannot contain so we scribble it out on paper. It's like a superpower.

“A what?” She questions me almost in disbelief, like I'm the first person to pay interest in her and understand her.

“You want something far greater than you can comprehend, you live in a realm unknown to the human eye just to escape.” Her eyes light up a little, letting her shallow dirty graves bloom into the ocean at sunset as the light hits them through the kitchen window and they are all I seem to be dreaming about lately, my realm to get lost in.

“I can't tell if that was a compliment or an insult?” She twirls her fingers through her messy hair unaware she's even doing it and my mind jolts, imagining my hand running through it for a moment.Snap out of it Hays.

“It's beautiful. Unique. Different.” I take a swig to drown away the betrayal leaving my mouth. In reality I don't even know what beauty entails anymore but something is telling me,THATis and I don't know what I'm referring to anymore, writing orher.

“Are you already drunk?” Her expression is bewildered, trying to make sense of my words, but a subtle smile graces her face revealing dimples I've never seen before and my stomach knots, I've not seen her smile before. She's not been conscious around me long enough for me to notice. Her response only tells me she's never been complimented by anyone but her parents which makes me want to compliment her all the more and that just pisses me off. I never compliment anyone. I wasn't even complimenting her; I was referring to her hobby.

“Just honest.” I watch her swallow, taking in my words, suddenly embarrassed to look at me.

“What do you do?” She asks shyly, like she shouldn't be asking but she is anyway. This has turned into a fairly normal conversation and it's weirdly unfamiliar to me. I'm so used to gouging out eyes and interrogating my victims for answers, not asking them what they enjoy doing.

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