Whirlwind | W.M.

12

Silence struck harder the second time around.

Just when I thought utter isolation was hard, having to watch Wanda and Nat disappear down the hall without ever being allowed to set foot outside of my door was a different range of bittersweet. A whole day of what I'd call progress, with Wanda and Nat being around to fill the space made the apartment feel like it could possibly be home. It didn't feel like a cage and I didn't, just for a moment, feel like some monster who had to be hidden away once again.

Amidst adjusting back to what was meant to be, the night felt a lot colder and the air was stiller than I was used to. Maybe having them around did more damage than good, because all throughout the next couple of nights, no matter how many times I play the records or let the white noise of the television fill the apartment- it almost felt incomplete. I barely got a wink of sleep trying to drown out the isolation, my mind running a million miles an hour as I stared up at the ceiling. At this point, I had probably memorized every crack.

Most nights, what occupied my mind- as much as it pains me to admit, was what transpired at the rooftop. God, it was like a plague I couldn't shake, the way my thoughts would keep drifting back to that, to the way she pulled me in, to the way we just stood there, me frozen and Wanda shattered in a way I never thought I'd see. She was stifling her sobs, restricting her breathing so much I could practically feel her trembling.

It was poignant and gentle all at once, the way she fell apart in my arms like I've been granted a view nobody in the world had ever seen. In the tenderness of her cries, I could tell just how much of her was torn apart- just like me. I could never be brave enough to show her, but in that moment she was the bravest one I'd ever known. We didn't speak much of it after; I just stood with her as we looked out onto the city. For the first time, we didn't need words. We kind of just basked in the fleeting vulnerability that moment brought, neither one of us feeling the need to shoot our defences up the way we used to.

I guess I could say that things have definitely shifted into somewhat of a grey area between us. I didn't resent her the way I used to, but then that leaves me at a space that was entirely foreign. Did I like her? Did I consider her a friend? Do I trust her? I couldn't find definite answers no matter how hard I tried.

All I knew is that I didn't mind having her around now, and I'm not sure if I'd ever truly understand what that meant for us. I wasn't even sure if she felt the same way, if she spent the ride back regretting that moment- if by the next time we'd see each other we'd only fall back to the hostility we knew best.

God, just when I thought things couldn't get even more complicated.

"Ew, why are you all sulky?" Martina grimaces as she enters the bedroom. At that point, I was just used to having her randomly pop in, like a pest I couldn't get rid of. Afternoon has come without me even realizing, or getting out of bed for the matter.

"I'm not sulky." I groan, keeping my eyes glued to the television. Maybe if I didn't look at her, she'd just magically disappear. It would have been a nice treat.

"You look sulky. Have you even showered?" She asks as she plops onto the space next to me, the dip in the bed barely fazing me as I sink into silence with my arms tightly knit around a pillow.

"Fuck off." I grumble, mushing my face into the soft cushion.

"You smell."

"You annoy me."

"I'm practically your babysitter. Go and take a shower, you reek." Her small hands press upon my back as she tries to nudge me off the bed with as much strength as she could muster. I barely moved.

"Leave me alone."

"No, I promised Nat I'd look after you. She said she'd pay me." She continues to try, little staggered huffs slipping from her lips as I hastily turn over to face her.