Experiment of Madness

24-Silent Tension: The After-Aerra

Two days later.

I sit on my bed, my mind clouded with frustration and a hint of lingering hurt. My eyes dart towards Dag every now and then, catching him glancing at me out of the corner of my eye. I still refuse to acknowledge him, my mood sour, and I remain silent, immersed in my own thoughts.

I continue to ignore him, my emotions still raw, and my pride hurt. I act nonchalant, as if I don't care about our cold silence, trying to convince myself that it doesn't matter to me. "We're still not talking. It's not like I care," I mutter quietly, attempting to make myself believe it, even as a part of me is bothered by the ongoing lack of communication.

I sneak a glance at him, and I find his eyes already fixated on me. He quickly shifts his gaze away, our eyes having met for a brief moment, adding more intensity to the already tense atmosphere.

I roll my eyes, my expression a mix of annoyance and dismissal. The brief eye contact, his quick shift of gaze, and the ongoing silence only add to the tension and my exasperation. I try to focus back on my book, pretending not to care or be bothered by his presence.

"Annoying prick," I mumble under my breath, my resentment towards him only growing. The silence becomes more and more suffocating as my hurt feelings and frustration bubble

I mutter the words, my voice barely above a whisper. But his sharp ears seem to catch my insulting remark. He questions me, his tone sharp in response. "What did you just say?"

I hesitate for a moment, realizing he heard my muttered insult. "Nothing," I mutter, trying to dismiss his question, not wanting to escalate the tension further.

He presses, his ears sharp to catch my words. "No, no, I heard you," he stands up, his stance becoming more stern, his expression revealing he's not letting go easily.

I stand up defiantly, leaving the book behind, my words slipping out, frustration and hurt evident. "I said you're an annoying prick," my voice carries a hint of bitterness, my feelings now out in the open.

His eyebrows raise as I stand up, his eyes lock with mine, a mixture of surprise and anger filling his expression. His voice carries a mix of sharpness and hurt as he confronts the remark.  "Did you just call me an annoying prick?" He asked, his tone indicating his hurt ego.

The tension in the room rises, his hurt feelings evident in his expression. "Yes, I called you an annoying prick," I respond, my voice sharp and defiant as I stand my ground, my stubbornness not willing to back down.

He steps closer, his eyes locked on mine, his expression growing sharper and more aggravated. "Why the hell did you say that?" he asks, his pride and ego bruised by the insult, his jaw clenched, his voice rising with frustration.

My words come out sharp and biting, frustration and bitterness clearly evident. "Because I wanted to. It's not like it's wrong. You're two-faced, bad, and only care about yourself," my resentment spilling out, a mixture of hurt and suppressed anger that's been building for weeks.

He doesn't hold back his own hurtful words, a reflection of his own ego being stung. "Well, you're selfish, spoiled, annoying, and bratty." My expression doesn't waver even as his words stung, my pride keeping up the facade of indifference.

He throws my mental health struggles back into my face, his insult aiming at my mental state. "Crazy girl who hears voices in her head." His words hit a sensitive chord, a low blow attacking me.

The tension reaches its peak as I attempt to slap him, but his reflexes are quick. He skillfully catches my wrist mid-air, stopping the physical attack, his hand gripping tightly, holding my slap in place.