Two strangers. One room. And it doesn't end there.
Rhys Hayes has been diagnosed with dyscalculia. He finds it easier to avoid talking than have to reveal his secret: why he can't tell the time, or why he doesn't remember directions, or why he just...
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April 3rd:
♤ Rhys ♤
I think she's been treating me different.
Usually whenever I'd ask her to stop talking, she'd try again. Now, she just doesn't. I look at her again and again, wondering when she'll finally call out to me.
I think of what I can do to let her know I'm free to talk. I start using more than just three to five words in a sentence, trying to prolong our conversations. And yet, she's the one who sticks with yes or no.
Yesterday, I asked her which of the two she likes more: pencil sketching or painting.
She said "yes" and then looked away so fast, I couldn't tell if she's human or not.
Nothing works though, she remains too quiet and it's not like her. Maybe she's bleeding again is what I think but I'm not sure.
I need to be more sweet with my words. That's it, right?
Verena's sitting on the floor, right in front of the window. She has a paper in front of her while all of her paints surround her. She's so disorganized, it makes my skin crawl but I don't say anything.
That's what we've been doing the last few days. Not saying anything.
My phone rings and I stare at Mom's name before picking it up.
"Hi Mom," I say.
"Hi Rhys, how are you?" She says, just as I expected her to.
"Fabulous."
"Really?" She asks, like she'd expected otherwise.
"Yeah?"
"I don't know if you should stay there any longer."
I glance at Vera as I consider what Mom's proposing.
"I have to Mom, it's a lockdown," I say.
"Yeah," Her voice trails off.
"What's wrong?" I ask.
"That girl who lives with you, she just doesn't seem right in the head, is she okay?" She asks and I just stare at the floor, confused.
"What do you mean?"
"I talked to her the other night-"
"You what?" I ask, standing up.
"She called off of your phone," Mom continues.
"What did she say?" I ask, tapping my feet.
"She kept shush-ing me and I think she thought I-"
"She shush-ed you?" I question.
"Yeah, I don't remember the rest. It was too late at night," She says.
