Amnesia » S.K.

Seventeen.

Seventeen.

"What are you doing in here?!", I pressed my towel against my body more firmly as I turned around to look at him.

"I'd just finished showering when you came in", he explained.

"And why didn't you say something?", I barked at him.

"'Oh, yeah. Hi, Belle. I'm in the changing box. Don't freak out'", he pretended to have said in said situation making fun of me. "I was supposed to be out by the time you came out of the shower. What was the point?", he said with a blank stare. "Or did you prefer me to irrupt in the shower to tell you I was here?".

"Oh, shut up", I rolled my eyes at him.

"Like I said, looks like we're gonna be in here for a while", he said making himself comfortable and sitting down on the floor.

I was still beside the door, unsure of what to do next.

"Are you gonna stand there the whole while or are you gonna change?", he said to me since he had nothing better to do.

"I left my clothes in my room", I admitted, blushing.

He sighed and took his shirt off with one single movement.

"Here, put this on", he offered me it.

Why was it I always ended up wearing his clothes somehow?

"I don't need your sympathy. Keep it", I snapped at him.

It wasn't that I was even mad at him. I was actually mad, raging mad at the seven douches who were just behind the door. Probably laughing their asses off at James and I.

"Okay, stiff. Don't need you to be bitter at me", he said leaving his shirt beside him on the floor.

I went and sat down on the bathroom countertop as far away from him as I possibly could.

Neither of us spoke, so we remained silent and since I was bored as f*ck I started looking at my own nails.

"Can you please put the shirt on?", he asked when he could stand the silence no longer.

"Why? Am I making you uncomfortable?", I smiled cockily at him just to annoy him.

"No. You're gonna get cold", he said putting on a blank expression.

"And why do you care? You know, this brings us back to our conversation at the pie sale. What's with the change of mood, James?", I asked him directly.

He stopped looking at me and fixed his gaze on the floor, his jaw suddenly clenching.

"Fine, whatever", I said hopping down from the stand seeing I wasn't gonna get a word out of him and grabbing his shirt with an eye roll. "Happy?", I asked 10 seconds later as I emerged from the box already changed.

He still didn't say anything.

"Have it your way", I mumbled as I sat down on the floor on the opposite wall from him and somehow gave in to sleep.

I was seven.

I was hiding under the bed just as my mommy had told me to. I was singing. I was singing low enough so nobody could hear me but loud enough so I couldn't hear all the slapping and thumping in the background.

It was another of the innumerous times my dad had arrived home drunk and was beating the crap out of my mother.

But this time, something changed.

My dad stepped into my room and I immediately stopped humming.

I let out a terrified sigh as he took a step in further. That was all it took.