66: Escape the Tension
We stared at each other for a moment. Luke finally broke his gaze, biting his lip for a split second.
"What's the first thing you think of when you think of family?" Luke asked out of the blue. I'm not so sure it was as random to him.
"I think that I need to find a private room quick so no one will see my cry." I answered bluntly.
"What about the word sister."
"My mom was as close to a sister as it got."
"Brother?" He seemed hopeful for some reason.
"I had a friend when I was younger. He supported me mentally. But I started shutting him off during middle school when my dad's beatings and my hormones were coming into play all together." I stopped Luke from asking more questions. "I need to take a shower." Luke leaned, to the right, allowing just enough space for me to slide off the counter, my side brushing against his arm as I did so.
Every hair on my body was standing on end until I made it upstairs and the awkward feelings weren't as vibrant and noticeable.
I grabbed a pair of sweatpants and a baggy shirt to change into and barely remembered to snag my towel before I walked in and shut the bathroom door. I got out of my clothes, turned on the fan, and let the shower get to a good temperature.
For some reason I wasn't having it with the hot water. I stepped in and couldn't find appreciation for the burning sensation on my scalp. I turned the temperature to a lukewarm and it was better.
Finally, I gave up and turned it all the way cold. I sat there and shivered for a while before going through my hair soap, body soap and standing underneath the water for another ten minutes. I finally forced myself to turn the water off and it instantly made me realize how cold I had actually let the temperature get.
I dried off and then forced on my clothes. The whole time, I tried to get my mind to work and think about the conversations I had had with Luke but it was blank.
All I could think was how much I wanted popcorn.
YOU ARE READING
Stockholm Syndrome
General FictionI didn't want to. I wouldn't. I won't. But suddenly I was doing it. I didn't even register my feet hitting the fourteen steps it took to get up the stairs. My brain ignored the ninth step and how creaky and loud it was. And then I was there. Finding...
