UNORTHODOX | KAI PARKER

XVIII .SELFISH.

Chapter 18

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Mornings have never really been my thing.

Ever since I was a kid, I was not a morning person. The sun rising over the curve of the earth filled me with an emotion only to be identified as rage. Mornings meant leaving the plush comfort of my two blankets, four pillows, and fox stuffed animal. The dawn meant walking around the house barefoot, dazed and freezing despite the warm Virginia air, slowly waking up as my family teased me. Even though they knew I was not in the mood.

It meant a rewind button on my life— and not in the good way. Not to fix mistakes, or change paths. But the mistakes, the paths playing out in front of me with every bare foot on the cold, wooden floor. As if the universe was teasing me with a 'Hey! Remember yesterday? That sucked, didn't it? Let's do it again!'

Mornings meant having to relive the previous day. Each sunrise dragging me back to the same reality. Something that I felt incapable of. Like a prison world.

And this morning is bad. But not in the way I've grown accustomed to over the past twenty years.

My breath is shaky as I come to. A yellow hue emanating through the threads in the curtains and my legs tangled in the sheets— almost constricting. The vivid memories of my dream settling in the crooks of my brain. Because of course I had another nightmare. Of fucking course I did. Wouldn't be the prison world without one.

A nightmare of judgement, condemnation, from no other than the ones supposed to love me most. A nightmare of abandonment, because I have the fucking audacity to have emotions towards someone they deem as unworthy. The usual.

And I fucking hate it.

That even when they're not here. When they're literally in another dimension— they still harbour some sort of control over me. Over my feelings. And I can't help but envy Kai, in that aspect. I can't help but wish to be like him. To not care. To shrug off the judgement, the condemnation, with a nonchalant indifference. Which—

The sociopath, snuggled up at my side like a teddy bear, lets out a yawn. Eyes blinking blearily, before opening fully and his face stretches in a grin. "Well, good morning." His voice is husky from sleep, but his features soft as his hand finds comfort in my brown locks.

An uncontrollable smile graces my lips, sinking into the touch, but part of me wishes it away. Faces of family haunting my vision and eating at my insides. And it forces my smile into a small frown as my body inadvertently shifts from the touch and his hand falls to the pillow. "Morning."

I cringe at the sound of my own voice. The blatancy of the apprehension slipping through. The small cracking, and not just from sleep. I attempt to cover it up my rubbing my eyes with a balled fist, rolling onto my back. But Kai notices it. Because apparently being able to read me like an open fucking book is a symptom of whatever is going on inside his head. He shifts onto his side, propping his head up with his hand and furrowing his brows.

"What?" he questions. "I wasn't snoring, was I?"

I roll my eyes, finding the ceiling particularly intriguing as I avoid eye contact. Slivers of ghosts present under my skin— but not the supernatural ones following me. "Only a little bit." An attempt at a joke, but the sociopath's unamused expression is evident in my peripheral vision. And I feel like I'm being interrogated— or scolded.

He seems confused. Eyebrows furrowed and blinking at me. As if trying to solve a puzzle— and I curse how observant he is. How, despite being alone for almost two decades, the sociopath can read me in an instant. "You're being weird."