Horrifically Wounded, Strikingly Gorgeous & Deadly [ErenXMikasa] [Eremika]

XXIV: The Knight Hath Returned

[Mikasa]

Mika, are you okay? It's been a while since I last heard from you. I'm worried.

The unforgiving glare of my phone-screen blinds my eyes, yet I don't dare look away; what the fuck am I meant to say to him? I sigh; you brought this upon yourself, Mikasa. You knew this would happen. I shake my head vigorously, my hair making a scratching sound against the soft silk of my pillowcase. I bring a shaky hand to my temple, pressing my index and middle finger against the skin as I rub it in a circular motion. All this over-thinking is giving me an insufferable headache.

Just as I press the 'off' button on my phone, however, my mother's sickly-sweet voice echoes throughout the halls from downstairs. "Mikasa!" She yells, an uncharacteristically chipper timbre to her voice. What does that hag possibly have to be happy about? For a moment, I'm tempted to ignore her beckoning me down to the dining table - to simply reach under my head and bring my pillow over my ears in a bid to prevent her calls from reaching me. Despite this temptation, however, I know very well my absence at dinner would be duly noted, and I'd receive the most vile of punishments later if I missed it. I begrudgingly will myself out of bed. I feel my body sway slightly as I sit up. I groan; my head feels like it's packed with cotton balls. Blinking my eyes several times, I allow my eyesight to adjust to the darkened walls of my bedroom, illuminated now only by the moon that hangs like a painting against the night sky.

My bare feet make contact with the fluffy texture of my bedroom rug, and for a moment, I revel in the feeling; warm, soft. Like Eren. I shake the thought from my head as quickly as it came, biting my lip. Shut the fuck up, Mikasa. He was just a quick fuck. A distraction. That's it. Motivated by my own eagerness to rid myself of the thought of him, I drag my feet toward the door of my bedroom. My eyes meet the familiar grain of my bedroom door, covered in thick white paint, and I immediately feel my heartbeat travel to my throat, lodging itself in my windpipe. Don't start this again, you idiot. I do my best to take in a deep breath; run a shaky hand through my hair. It's just dinner. I nod to myself once - a poor attempt at reassurance - and brace myself for the unsurmountable amount of nausea I just know tonight's episode of 'Happy Families' will induce. I bring my hands gingerly to the door handle, unlocking it in one swift motion as I exit.

I'm immediately met with the mouth-watering smell of my mother's cooking; despite how much I resent her, there is one quality about her that is undeniably worth appreciating; she's a fantastic cook. Nonetheless, whenever she does cook, I can't find it in myself to eat anything because that vile excuse of a man is always sat no less than a few measly feet away.

I slowly make my way down the staircase, sauntering through the foyer and through the doorway that leads to the dining room. The nausea I've grown all too used to brew s in my stomach as my eyes are met with the most disgusting shade of blue I've ever had the displeasure of knowing. I pause.
My father and I lock eyes for a moment, and immediately my palms become clammy. Cut it out, Mikasa. Leave it alone. And yet, no matter how much the voice in my head tells me to stop, I can't help but feel the overwhelming urge to send a right hook straight into the side of his face. At this point I can feel Levi's eyes on me, and I realize that whatever telepathic conversation my father is trying to have with me is drawing too much attention. We break the stalemate at the same moment, and I take my seat on the left side of him while Levi takes his at the end.

The tension at the dinner table has been greater - a feat I didn't think feasible - since my father's news. It would seem my mother and I have both desperately tried to ignore it, to bury it under strained commentary and incredulous small talk; however, Levi's newfound resentment for my father is constantly shooting that horse in the face. To say it was an inconvenience would be a complete understatement.