Page 47 of Collateral Damage

“One day, one day you'll accept that you're not entirely bad.” I wish she was right. As much as I wish she wouldn’t see that in me considering the pain I’ve caused her.

“I hope I'm dead by then. Because heaven would laugh at the impossible and hell would shriek with disgust.”

“Why must you be so complacent?” I can hear her step closer, her presence invading my already tiny bubble.

“And why must you be so invasive?” I keep my eyes sealed shut, as if her lingering isn’t bothering me enough already.

“That's rich coming from you.” Her arms are definitely folded, and she is pulling the most adorable face right now,I just know it.

“Your sweet tongue will get you nowhere and neither will your sharp teeth.” I exhale through a sigh of boredom.“Go to bedAlora.”

“You want invasive? Fine.” Her feet make light work of my wooden floorboards as she storms round the sofa in the dark, I almost put my foot out to trip her but I refrain, feeling her brush past me to the other side of the sofa, planting her ass down leaving Shep as a divider between us before huffing in annoyance.

“I hope you enjoy silence.” I continue to remain unbothered, glaring at the back of my eyelids as I rest my neck in the palm of my hands trying my best to remain composed, but I can feel a smile betraying me as the corner of my lip cracks.

“It’s bliss compared to your self-pity. You can't talk about invasiveness when you've invaded every part of my life. Including this stupid thing in my chest.” She’s not wrong. In fact, that's the smartest thing she’s said all night.

“As I said. Your heart's too big for your chestInnocence.It'll get you hurt.”

“I'd rather feel something than feel nothing.” She slumps back into the sofa as we both glare up at my ceiling like it will help us to understand one another better, but all it’s ever done is show me the very cell I’m trapped in.

“One day. You will realise just how wrong you are.”

??

Play - 'Wash - Bon Iver'

She's had her head stuck in that thing since I gave it to her and it's kind of nice to see her do something other than stare at my ceiling or pester me. She must have written a whole novel by now with the amount she's writing, I'm gonna have to buy more pens if she keeps this up. I've been tempted a few times to snoop, she's not exactly being discreet with hiding it either, and since our little heart to heart the other night, it’s obvious she’s been venting through the pages. I don’t know how she hasn’t torn it apart but at least she eventually fell asleep, even if it did mean I was yet again cast out from my own sleeping arrangement. Her and Shep are growing fonder of that sofa by the day and I’m left on guard duty.

I am absolutely smothered in paint and it's going to be a bitch to wash out. She pulls her head from her pages to raise a brow, trying desperately to hold back a laugh, cuddled in with Shep who has taken more interest in her these days.

“Did you miss your face?” If she's not careful I'll smother her pretty little ass in it.

“Very funny.”

“I'm hilarious”

“What are you writing in that thing anyway? How has your wrist not fallen off.” She's been writing every day andwe're nearing the end of January. She wasn't even bothered by Christmas, which was nice for me. It's kept her quiet, maybe a little too quiet. I'm finding myself in the house more and more when I should be keeping my distance rather than making small talk.

“Do you paint?” I have an entire trailer to paint and I could do with a helping hand. I'm sure she will enjoy the distraction.

“Errm- if painting my bedroom at ten years old counts then I guess so?” Yeah, that will do.

“Fabulous.” I lug in four large panels from the garage and dump them on the coffee table.

“So you murder people for a living with a side of painting?”Precisely.

“It's a project.” I haul two large tubs of cream paint in from outside and I know this will end up going everywhere but I'm past the point of caring. The house needs it anyway. I throw her a brush and I'm surprised to see she actually caught it.

“Is this why you're outside all the time?” I like to keep my mind occupied, otherwise I have a tendency to let my anger get the best of me.

“I told you. It's to get away from you.” The sarcasm rolls off my tongue, dampening my insult as a grin betrays me.

“That's why you're asking me to help?” I don't actually know why I'm asking her to help. I'm quite capable of painting it by myself. It's purely to speed up the process.

“I can take it back outside and you can wallow in your journal again if you want?” I tug the end of the wooden panel, threatening to remove it.

“No no! I'll do it.” She practically jumps on it, keeping it bound to the table and immediately dunks her brush, beginning the painful process and she's clearly not lying. I've never seen a more painful paint job in my life. You'd think I handed a four-year-old a paint brush. I scold her with judgement.

---