Charades

𝙲𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚃𝚎𝚗

Short one bc I split this chapter into two, the next chapter is a continuation don't worry :) I'm just editing chapters sporadically don't mind me 😁😁😁.

Ahira

I retrieve my phone, making sure to keep it hidden from view. Hastily, I snap a picture of the scene, not intending to send it to anyone but wanting some leverage over him. Silas knows too much about my life, that's dangerous when I know nothing of his. I leave the bathroom soon after I'm satisfied with the photos.

The sweet smell of hot chocolate encases the hallway.

I follow the source to the kitchen and watch Silas navigate the area, it suits him. He seems to be at peace. It contrasts the constant scowls I receive or, the flash of anxiety that comes across his face in certain situations.

"Take a picture it might last longer," he smugly remarks while grabbing a mug from the cabinet.

I roll my eyes and sit at the kitchen island. The colour of the marble is a mix of beige and blue, this marble must be imported from another country.

"You really know how to piss me off Silas," I laugh at my half-truth.

In a practised motion, he deftly pours the hot liquid into two cups. Steam ascends from the ceramic, and a rich creamy aroma of cocoa invades my nostrils.

"I could say the same for you Ahira," he replies calmly, focusing on his task at hand.

I rest my head on my hand, take a deep breath and face a wall that doesn't contain a view of Silas. I don't have the energy to think of a witty reply so, I keep quiet. Sometimes silence is the best insult. I hope he feels offended. I don't want to give him any reason to grow his already large saviour complex.

"What the hell is that lovebite doing on your neck?" His brows furrow. He leans to get a better view of my stretched neck, I hear a mug slide over to my side of the island.

My eyes widen before I adjust my turtleneck, It must've slid down due to the heavy rain. How much of the bruise did he see?

"That's not any of your business Silas," I remind sternly before I cover the adjust the neck of the shirt.

His face turns into one of disgust, his voice is full of betrayal "First you mess around with Mathew. And now this? We could've been something good yet you end it for a silly fling? You can whore around with the worst guy in school but you can't keep a stable conversation with me? Mathew nearly ruined us all. It's pathetic that you still speak with him."

After all the heckling, I have had enough. I'm not going to take the high road anymore.

"Don't act as if you're not some drug addict in secret you asshole! What are you doing with that many anxiety meds in your bathroom?" I slam my hand against the counter. Something hostile grows in the air, my heart races and Silas' eyes widen.

"How-" 

I cut him off with a raised voice "Don't interrupt me! You call me names but you are the fakest person I have ever seen. You have no right to tell me what to do!"

As adrenaline runs through my veins, I struggle to order my scrambled thoughts.

 That situation was completely out of control, I can't allow my father's actions to be blamed on me. Not again.

"How do you know that they're anxiety meds? It's not labelled as that on the prescription bottle," Silas thinks out loud.

My body trembles at the result of my loose mouth. My body works on it's own and skittishly, I stand on my feet and slowly cower away from him. He knows too much. A lump in my throat forms,

Shit.

I want to think of an answer but, Silas beats me to it.

"Did you know there's something called concern? Usually, parents develop that when they find out their son has anxiety. You're a Daddy's girl. No? You should get it," he condescendingly answers.

Slowly, it all makes sense. Silas has anxiety. In the nurse's office, he looked shaken up as if he'd seen a ghost. However, that doesn't explain why some of his jars were finished while other supplements of his prescription were untouched.

 I wasn't meant to know. That day, he ordered me not to enter. I was the one who didn't listen to him and went along with his lie.

I attempt to confirm my thoughts, maybe I can apologise. "That time in the nurse's office." 

"If you stay out of my business, I'll stay out of yours. You and I both know that Zoloft and Xanax at that dosage are only available from a psychiatric hospital. Especially at the capacity I have," he bluntly cuts to the chase.

He's right. The dosage he has is usually prescribed for a few weeks at most. He seems to have been on his meds for months if I counted the jars correctly. His mental health issues are severe, not just a mild problem.

"I went once as a kid and signed up for prescriptions. You didn't. I won't dig into your past, don't make me do it either," he threatens.

What do I say to that? 

I grab the warm mug and stumble away from the kitchen, I glance at him and his eyes connect with mine. They aren't angry, but worried. Whether it's worry for himself or me, I don't know. But something unbearable and heavy hangs in the air, it's almost compressing my lungs.

Flashbacks from my past stream through my mind. Every crevice of my consciousness fills with unwanted memories.

The begs.

The screams.

The tears.

No.

I can't go back, not even for a second.

Or, am I too scared to handle the unwanted truth?

A gruelling groan escapes from my mouth. I push on and find my way to the bedroom.