I stayed calm. My voice was almost eerie. “Have a nightmare, Maddie?”
The book I was casually skimming through a few seconds ago was back in my hand, making it look like I had been sitting here for hours, reading leisurely as I waited for her to wake up.
Madeline moved a few pieces of hair behind her ear with shaky fingers that she desperately tried to hide. Her tiny hands formed into fists by her sides after the small gesture. “What the fuck are you doing in my bedroom? How…” She looked back to her bedroom door, her supple body glowing from the lamp behind her. “How did you get in here?”
I inclined my head to the bathroom door before putting my attention back on the book. I couldn’t stand to look at her. I was worried. I was fucking worried about her.
The feeling almost had me throwing the book across the floor and storming out of her bedroom. I was disgusted. I shouldn’t have been worried about her.
My head was all sorts of fucked up. I eyed the door behind her, ready to dart out of it.
“Shit,” she muttered, rubbing her hand down the side of her face. Much to my surprise, her face turned even whiter. I expected her to be embarrassed that I was here watching her. Maybe a little flushed in the cheeks.
But no. She was pale. A sickly pale.
I continued to watch her every movement. The darting of her eyes to the bathroom door and to the chair I was sitting on. Her tiny rib cage heaving underneath her t-shirt. The shaking of her hands.
Madeline finally seemed to remember that I was in her room, because she settled a glare on me and bit out, “Why are you here, Eric?”
I clicked my tongue, taking my attention and putting it back onto the book in my hand. I lazily flipped a page. “Well,” I started, “I came to ask you why you were taking Ambien, but I think I already know.”
I brought my eyes back to hers purely to see her reaction.
This time, her cheeks did flush. A small spread of pink washed over her sculpted cheekbones. Her plump, curved lips fell into a straight line as she glanced away.
“What were you dreaming about?” I asked.
She gritted through her teeth. “None of your fucking business.”
“Hmm.” I clicked my tongue. “Try again.”
“Get out of my room.”
I chuckled, throwing the book onto the desk behind me. It landed with a small thud. “What were you dreaming about, Madeline? Why are you taking sleeping pills?” My eye twitched as I tried to appear relaxed. But I wasn’t. I felt a little crazed. No matter what she did or said, I still had this small, miniscule part of me that cared about her. It was the most agonizing feeling in the world—caring about someone who didn’t deserve it. It was like having some deviant form of Stockholm syndrome, and being alone with her was only making it worse.
Madeline padded over to me as I sat in her computer chair, feeling all sorts of pissed off about feeling shit I had no business feeling.
“Why do you even care?” she asked, stopping just a few feet away from me.
“I don’t,” I rushed out. “Just curious, that’s all.” My head tilted back as I met her stare, evening my tone. “It’s not every day I see a girl like you crumble. I’d been wondering what was so important about those little pink pills since I witnessed you acting so damn pathetic over them the other night. So I went ahead and did an Internet search earlier and found out just what they were. So, Maddie…what’s keeping you up at night?”
She laughed sarcastically under her breath. “It sounds a lot like caring to me, Eric.” She crossed her arms over her perky tits. “Wouldn’t want to confuse that with hating me, right?”
“Oh, I still hate you, Madeline. Don’t think for a second that I don’t.”
She laughed sarcastically again, throwing her delicate chin back. “Oh, right. I forgot. You hate me because your dad fucked my mom. Sounds legit.”
I stood up quickly from her chair, peering down at her. “That’s not why I fucking hate you, Madeline.”
She threw her hands up, feigning innocence as she mocked me. “Oh no. He used my full name instead of the cute little pet name. That must mean you’re mad, huh?” Madeline stepped closer to me, her soft scent wrapping around my body like a fucking thorny vine, suffocating every last ounce of oxygen from the room.
“I am fucking mad.” I was. I was so fucking mad all the time. It wasn’t even really directed toward her most of the time, but it was there, lying underneath every single fake laugh and forced smile.
Madeline rolled her eyes. “For fucks’ sake, Eric. Get over it.” She slammed her hands onto her hips after throwing them up in the air. “So what, I knew your dad fucked my mom, but there are much worse things out there to be pissed about. Just leave me alone. Go hate-fuck some girls. Get it out of your system. I don’t have time for this bullshit.” She threw her hands up again, but this time it wasn’t for show. She was getting riled up, her voice rising, her cheeks growing even redder. “Does your dad hit you? Or your mom? Does he choke her with anger?”
I laughed out loud. “Yeah, fucking right. I’d break his goddamn arms, and he knows it.”
“Then quit being a little bitch, Eric! Get over it. Men cheat. It’s not the end of the world. If I knew you were going to be this fucking ridiculous over it, I would have told you back in seventh grade. I could have avoided this entire thing.”