"Oh, god," spills from my lips. He was there, in my house. He tried to speak, and I brushed him away, another brainless gnat buzzing around Rosalie.
Only he wasn't.
"I remember." He hears the inflection, draws himself to his full height. "But why?" I say. I'm trapped, penned by the same syllables. The only escape lies behind those cold eyes.
Scorn answers me. "You were perfect." The sneer transforms the word, a curse delivered as praise. "Beautiful. Friendly to everyone."
"But not you," I finish for him, remembering my annoyance.
My frustration circles and resurfaces. "Why now, damn it?"
No comments:
Post a Comment