20 Days In His Bedroom

Chapter Eleven

Feel pity? Really? That was all? I don't know why I am surprised though. But him feeling pity for me isn't appealing to me.

“Okay.” I say and finish my two slices while he sits on the bed and watches TV.

“I will go...you know sleep there.” I say and head to the bathroom.

“Night.” he calls after me.

“Night.” I say.

I go back to the floor and the bed I made from towels. I sleep immediately.

When I wake up, I stand up and brush my teeth with a new toothbrush that I found on the counter. I'm glad this hotel has a lot of things that I am missing.

I'm feeling too bad that I didn't find mom and dad. I still feel it's a nightmare. Who I am? Really who I am? Staying with a stranger in the same room?

You're not sleeping with him in the same place. My subconscious reminds me. But it's still not me. I wouldn't ever think to stay with a guy in the same place. Well, I am forced to. Where else could I go? Alex didn't appear yet. I will ask her to stay in her place if she comes. I hope she comes.

I open the door. I find Nial still sleeping. I switch the TV off. He probably slept last night without turning it off.

“Good morning.” he says still closing his eyes.

“Uhm..good morning.” I stammer. “Did I wake you up?”

“Yes.” he teases.

“Oh, I'm sorry.”

“I'm just teasing. It's okay.” he sits up and smiles.

“Aha.” I smile weakly.

“What?” he looks at me.

“Nothing.”

“So, you're good?” he smirks. His smirk is attractive, I guess.

“Not really.” I roll my eyes.

“Why?”

“Why? Because simply I am lost.”

“Lost?” he gets puzzled. I don't know why though.

“Yes, I don't know where is mom or dad and I am forced to stay in this state, this hotel, this room.” I frown. I don't know what he expects.

“Forced? You are not!”

“I am.” I say and look down at my fingers.

“You can go whenever you wish. I'm not locking the door, see?” he growls.

“I know. It's not about you. The story is that I don't have another place honestly.”

“I feel sorry for you to be forced to stay with someone like me.” he scoffs.

“I didn't mean that.” I grumble.

“Whatever.” he huffs.

He stands up and goes to the bathroom.

Once he comes out, I face him.

“Why are you mad at me?” I ask.

“I'm not.” he says and sits on the chair and turns it to face me.

“Nial...” I begin but I notice that he fights his laugh. It's almost the tenth time he laughs when I mention his name.

“Nial, can you tell me what is funny about your name?” I ask another question instead.