By the time I get back with all three in tow, she’s already done with one waffle, and she’s working on the eggs that now have syrup drizzled over them. She doesn’t acknowledge me when I come back in, and I don’t bother trying to talk to her. All of our conversations go one way, so the silence coming from her is nice, but only for so long. I don’t know why, but somehow, her silence is somehow more unnerving than when she’s talking shit.
Without a single word to her, I start cleaning the busted-up dresser drawers that litter the reading nook and floor beneath the window. As I drop broken wood into the trash can, I keep my eyes on her without looking at her directly. She’s unaware that I’m watching her as she devours the food on the tray. At least I know the food isn’t bad. I’m positive she would have said so if it was.
The fire that radiates off her has my full attention, leaving me to absentmindedly clean the room as all my energy is being sucked towards her. I can almost feel the heat wave radiating off of her, burning into my skin.
Megan emits a different sort of heat, one that makes me want to go to her instead of run away.
Shit, I miss her.
Once I get done picking up the bigger pieces of wood, I move on to the broken table in the corner. Before I start picking it up, I stare down at it. Who the fuck does something like this? I’ve been pissed off before, but never to this extreme. I would blame it on pregnancy hormones that caused her to bethisangry, but I can’t see where Megan would do this. I can’t imagine her getting this mad about anything.
I watch Alana in my periphery, but she’s still going in on her food, munching on strawberries now. Her gaze stays pointed at the tray, paying no mind to what I’m doing, and she looks deep in thought. I can almost see the wheels turning in her head, her mischievous gray eyes shining as she chews like she’s plotting something.
If there was ever a time where I wished I could read people’s minds, it’s now. I would pay any amount of money to be able to know exactly what’s going through Alana’s head. I’m sure it would freak me out, but knowing is a hell of a lot better than guessing.
Moving over to the dresser, I look down at the splintered wood the mirror was enclosed in. It’s face down on the floor, and the two posts on the back that attached it to the dresser unevenly snapped. When I lift it, glass rains down on my clothes underneath it, and I repress a sigh. The only reason I’m not more annoyed is because I already went out and bought new clothes. I figured they’d be destroyed, too, and as I pick up the shirt I wore the night of mine and Megan’s romantic date, I’m glad I had the foresight to go out. The shirt is ripped apart, completely unsalvageable. Glass falls from it, and even if everything wasn’t torn apart, I wouldn’t be able to wear any of it anyway, not with how much glass is stuck inside the fibers. I sweep my clothes and the glass up, and it all goes into the trash can.
“Are you going to at least let me out of this dump for fresh air?” she asks, breaking the silence.
I look over at her to find she’s completely done with everything on the tray, minus the cup of coffee she’s sipping on. Stormy gray eyes watch me from over the rim of the coffee cup. If I didn’t know any better, I would have easily mistaken her for Megan when she’s feeling playful. But this look on Alana sends chills down my spine. How can someone say, ‘I’m going to ruin your life,’ with their eyes so clearly?
I go back to what I’m doing, preparing to give her the answer I’ve already come up with for that exact question. No way in hell am I going to tell her I don’t plan on letting her out until Megan gets back. Who knows what she’d do then.
“That’s only happening when I feel like you’re not going to try to hurt yourself or me, or whenever Megan comes back,” I tell her, sweeping up glass.
“What makes you think Megan won’t try to hurt you?” She asks me like she knows something I don't.
“She’s not violent,” I reply in a simple, matter-of-fact tone.
She shakes her head. “You don’t know what someone’s capable of when they’re backed against a wall.”
It sounds ominous how she says it like she’s threatening me, and by the way she’s glaring at me, I’m taking it as one.
“Just because you don’t know how to control your temper doesn’t make Megan reckless, too,” I remark.
She frowns at me. “Nothing I’ve done so far is reckless. My reaction to being held captive should have been expected. Kidnapping your mentally unstable girlfriend and locking her in a room is reckless and stupid.”
I try to push down the contempt her accusation stirs up, but it ends up creeping up anyway. Her words are the same as biting in a lemon slice, and I can’t fight it off.
“You’renot my girlfriend,” I reiterate through clenched teeth. “I’d never lock Megan away. She wouldn’t have tried to take my head off.She’snot the psychopath here.”
At that, she lets out a humorless laugh. “That’s right,I’mthe psychopath, according to the pot.”
There she goes again.
“I’m not a psychopath,” I say slowly.
She’s quiet for a second, and her eyes flicker to the side briefly before she looks back at me. “In what way is this not psychotic? You wouldn’t let Megan go after she told you she didn’t want to be here, and now you have her locked away from people and wouldn't let her use a phone. You had an entire room prepared to lock her away. Please explain how these are the actions of a sane person.”
I stare at her, trying not to be affected by her words, but I’m failing. I’m already beyond annoyed that I have to clean all of this shit up, and her words are only adding fuel to the flames.
“I didn’t lock Megan in here. Let’s get that straight first,” I start, then I point my finger at her. “I lockedyouin here. I would’ve never put Megan in here. I only had this room ready on the very off chance that I needed to use it, and I’m glad I had it. But as soon as Megan comes back, then I’ll leave the door unlocked. It’ll be better for all of us when she’s herself again.”
Her eyebrows set low above her eyes as she stares at me with cold eyes before she says, “I am Megan.”
“No, you’re not,” I sneer.
But as I’m saying it, the frown on her face cracks as a yawn slips out of her. She stretches her arms above her head, and her eyes shut as her mouth widens. Her chest pokes forward, and one of her legs bends over the other, and for just a moment, there’s Megan, seconds before she goes to lie down for a nap.