Dining Room.
In the dining room, there was no space for anything else. The table took up too much room. The library overflowed with forgotten books. The dust seemed to make them larger. George let his gaze wander over the worn-out furniture, the cracked walls, and finally settled on Patricia’s pale face. “Well?” she said. “You should be able to see it. You should already know that waiting for an answer is useless. What do you expect me to say?” “‘I’ll go,’ ‘Take me there,’ something like that. That’s what I want to hear from your lips.” George let out a rough, bitter laugh. “There’s nothing in the world that could make me say that. You lied to me. And then you left, just like that. My only regret is having been a fool.” “You tried to kill me. Me and your daughter.” “That thing is not my daughter.” “She is, just as much as I was your wife,” Patricia said. A glimmer began to appear in her eyes. George swallowed hard, shifting uncomfortably. “I want nothing to do with this,” he spat, disgusted. “But you’ll know anyway. I’ve been watching how you live.” This time, it was Patricia who let her eyes wander around the room. “Your life is wasting away between these walls. Your very essence.” “My essence is just fine where it is, thank you. Safe from you.” “I never touched you,” Patricia protested. “And you betrayed me. Yes, I lied, but it was necessary. With time, we could’ve been happy. We still can be.” A heavy silence fell between them, almost palpable. “No,” was all George said. Patricia turned away. “I’ll be back.” “It’ll be useless, and next time, maybe we won’t talk,” George said, lacing his words with a hint of threat. Patricia stared at him, raising an eyebrow in disbelief. “Keep your stakes ready,” she said, looking away and regaining her composure. “They won’t do you any good. And I will make sure my daughter sees her father.” She headed for the door.
