The Broken

Fourteen: More secrets

"People aren't either wicked or noble. They're like chef's salads, with good things and bad things chopped and mixed together in a vinaigrette of confusion and conflict."
-Lemony Snicket
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Pamela's POV:

The first thing i laid my eyes on was his chest. I must have turned to his side in my sleep. My eyes were heavy from all the crying, making me blink severely at their dryness. When I met his strong gaze at me, my brain fell back into place, making me instantly move away.

"Why did you stay?" I asked, sitting up straight from his chest, slightly fixing my hair.

Doing the same movement, he ran his hand through his tousled hair before clearing his throat, "i was worried about leaving you."

And from his red eyes, i could tell he didn't get any sleep. "Thanks." I replied coldly, getting up to get a hot shower, in the hope of taming my mind.

I had forgotten that i was wearing shorts and a tank top as a pajama, until i saw his eyes roaming my body.

"What are you looking at?"

"Nothing," he replied, taking his eyes off of me, before standing up and walking to the door.

Still polite i see.

The tension in the air was so thick that a knife could cut it. I'm surprised we spent the whole night in the same bed and i didn't end up being raped.

"What do you want for breakfast?" He suddenly turned around to ask.

"Nothing."

Can he stop caring? It's disturbing.

Exhaling heavily, he shocked me, "two pancakes covered in Nutella with whipped cream on the side and a sprinkle of Hershey's chocolate chips. Anything else?"

What the actual fuck? How did he know that?

"Oh, and orange juice to break a bit of the sweetness. They'll be ready by the time you get dressed." He spoke without a care in the world and left me dazzled in my empty room.

WHAT THE FUCK?! Who's this person, seriously?

I mean, yes he saw me eating them in the morning a couple of times but i didn't know he memorized it. Hell, i didn't even know he was paying attention.

Jesus. He is beyond strange.

You don't meet such a guy at every corner; he could destroy your life without blinking and then prepare you pancakes for breakfast.

Totally deranged.
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"Michael?" I spoke, breaking the ice.

He responded with a hum while taking a bite of his toast.

It was the first time we eat together. And hopefully the last.

"Never mind." I shrugged it quickly.

I don't even know why i wanted to engage in a conversation with him.

My response made him lock eyes with me, like he was staring deeply into my soul. Ever since the last time we saw Jason, he hadn't been himself. He's much quieter, much saner. But i can't help but still see darkness in his eyes.

"How are you feeling?" He asked, maintaining the eye contact.

I broke it off to look back at the bits of pancakes left in my plate. Messing with the fork nervously, "i'm better," i lied.

"I want to know what's causing these breakdowns."

"Is this an order?" I dropped the fork to my plate, turning my attention to him.