Dire {h.s.}

29

Avah Manikova

I can't believe that just happened. I've never seen Harry be so playful before, and I can lie, I enjoyed every second of it. I even think the part where we mocked each other by calling out one another's full name––

I said his name.

He hates when I say his name. I'll never forget the time he yelled at me when I said it, but I also think it's because I was trying to get him to open up to me in the most subtle way and he caught onto it. But now, things are so different from that, even if it did happen not too long ago. I never expected Harry to act like that with me, and it honestly made me feel like a normal person for once. It allowed me to forget the situation I'm actually in, and the horrors that come with it.

But reality settles in, and I come back to it as I stare at myself through the mirror in my own bathroom, my palms pressing tensley against the edge of the sink's countertop. It's like everything wrong with what I'm doing has found a way to attack me for it and it's doing it all at once. This is wrong, he's my kidnapper, I shouldn't care, I shouldn't think too much when I notice these things. I'm getting way too comfortable.

I suck it up and walk out of the bathroom, hoping that everything will go in the right direction and avoid any more moments that are starting to make me feel more comfortable here. Do I appreciate not being locked up in some random dark room like a normal kidnapped victim, yes. But the fact that they're treating me like another household member here is really messy with my mind. It's like I don't know how to act or who to be because they're treating me in a way that isn't what my mind is supposed to make me think I am. I can't catch up, and soon I know that when things fall apart, the treatment I have been growing used to, will tear me apart with it.

I freshen up, trying to not think about the fact that I said his full name to him and he didn't have a problem with it. It doesn't feel real, considering how he reacted last time.

There are no tasks for today, and it's honestly worrying. I still want to know what made Harry feel the need to drink himself to the brink of death. But I'm afraid that if I ask him, he'll be sent to another rage of lashing out at me, and after the moment we had together minutes ago, I want things between us to remain calm.

I walk out of my bathroom and into my room, aimlessly looking around with nothing planned––

My eyes catch a glimpse of the wall, the blank wall may I add. It's alarmingly empty, in fact, this entire room is so empty. Not an ounce of personality fills it. I begin to think about the different ways I can make this room better, and considering I'll be permanently staying here––

"What are you doing?" Liam's voice asks from the doorway, interrupting me from my thoughts.

I sigh, "Just... don't you think this room needs more..." I dig my mind for a word, "Personality?"

He stares at me blankly, before looking around the room to find what I'm talking about. "I mean, I suppose so." He says, "Why are you thinking of remodeling right now?"

"Because, he's making me work with you guys and be less treated like a..."

"Victim," Liam answers for me, very bluntly.

I nod my head, "Yeah, that."

"So your first task is to redesign your room?" he asks, raising a brow.

I shrug my shoulders, "It could use a picture or something, yeah."

He laughs, "All the rooms are like that, we don't live here permanently."

Confusion crosses my face, "You don't?"