#perfectevil

her body feels like it’s freezing,  her hands tugging on the blanket tightly around her as he finishes getting ready for the day.  this is how it goes every morning.  maybe it would be easier if she had to go to work at the same time as him,  but her two hour later start leaves too much time for her to lay in this empty and all too big bed without him.   every day,  it’s getting harder to pretend that she’s fine  -----   to him or to herself.  saying goodbye to him feels so daunting,  tears always instantly finding their way to her eyes the moment she hears the door close.  they feel like they’re coming sooner this time,   but she’s doing everything she can to hold them back until he leaves.  he’s so proud to leave for work every day;  the last thing she wants is to hold him back from that.  but this feeling in her head  /  in her heart,  it’s so desperate for him to stay.  she doesn’t have to look at the clock to know he’s almost finished his morning routine,  having counted it all down in her head  -----  so when she hears him walking towards the bed,  her body tenses,  her heart pounding against her chest.  before he’s able to kiss her goodbye,  she speaks instead.   ❝  don’t go. ❞  words are spoken every day  ----  sometimes with a playful grin,  sometimes with a teasing pout.  today,  it doesn’t hold the same lightness.  it’s weak,  her voice cracking,  words barely audible.    ❝  i miss you, ❞    she whispers.  it holds more weight than it sounds.  the more he’s out of their home,  the harder this all gets for her  ------  the more paralyzing it feels.   ❝  don’t leave.  ❞  don’t leave her. 

❝   i am not afraid.  ❞

she’s comfortable as she lays in his arms,         but she has made a point not to let herself get too comfortable.           it’s getting late,         and she knows better than to make sleepovers a ROUTINE.          with her history,        she can’t.       there’s a reason she doesn’t share a dorm with anyone and a reason she has made a point to get out of his frat house before she was bound there by night       -----            she doesn’t know what could happen to her or to HIM in her sleep,            and that’s not something she wants him to find out about too late.              they’re getting closer every day,           and the weight of this secret of hers is weighing heavily on her,           she just doesn’t know how to say it.           will he be too cautious,         will he realize she’s too much to handle,         so much that she’s simply not worth it?             she has always felt as if she’s on a fragile line with him,        constantly waiting for him to turn around and leave her in the dust,       and it’s why she hasn’t told him the DARK parts of herself.             but she has let herself slip too many times recently;        she can’t keep going on like this.            she doesn’t know how to act anyway    -----       THEY’RE TOGETHER,         yet they’re not        (       they haven’t discussed labels,        and it doesn’t seem to matter,          but what does that mean for them anyway?       )          is it even okay that she spends the night?          or is this all in her head?            she doesn’t want to burden him by accidentally becoming his roommate just as much as she doesn’t want to WORRY him with what might happen if she has a nightmare.             she takes a deep breath as she unravels herself from his grasp underneath the covers,          though she doesn’t expose herself.            arms reach down to find her clothes on the floor,          grabbing her underwear to slip on before grabbing the closest shirt she can find         (    his.    )         once it’s on her body,         she finally sits up,           turning back to him and offering a small smile.           ❝   i should get back to my room,   ❞           she whispers .         ❝   it’s late,         and   -----    i’m sure you want to get some sleep too.         i think you’re about to fall asleep on me.      ❞             and she doesn’t want to invite herself to stay,          nor does she want to tell him why she shouldn’t stay to begin with.         she just wants to end the night peacefully,        avoiding whatever BAD can come from staying any longer.             ❝    you don’t have to walk me.     ❞          she says quickly.         she’s still wondering where the LINE is supposed to be drawn with all of this.         she doesn’t want to expect things from him;             she doesn’t want to treat this like they’re boyfriend and girlfriend        (      even if that’s exactly what they are.      )          ❝    stay.         you look peaceful like this.       i can text you when i’m back.    ❞    

everyone has their own idea of what really happened here.     and everyone wants to be RIGHT about their own story,    because no one wants to believe they live in a town full of mysteries that they don’t quite understand.       that’s what she’s gathered so far with the way people are talking now that she’s back.     everyone talks about it as if their story is the truth,    and she can’t do anything to stop the talk   -----    she can’t PROVE the real truth because she can’t admit she’s part of it.       surely people have to wonder about her    -----    it was HER FRIENDS who died,    and though her name was saved from all reports,     she can’t stop the paranoia.      she gulps hard,    eyes nervously looking back at his.      ❝   about   -----     me  .   .   .   ?   ❞       small voice nearly cracks,     wearing every bit of worry across her features.        does he know the TRUTH about why she was really sent away?      ❝  what are those ideas?   ❞       words are rushed out,    because she’s too worried about what this really means. 

❝  dude,  sorry,  can’t hang tonight  ------  i’ve got a date.  ❞   spoken with pride,  despite his hair being a mess and a stain on his shirt that’s barely covered up by the faded flannel he has hanging over it.   ❝  don’t wait up,   i’ll be home late,   ❞   he taunts.

❝  ever wonder what could have been different  ----   if you stayed?  ❞    

❝  DON’T COME IN HERE!  ❞   words are shouted quickly as soon as she hears him come into the door  -----   of his own apartment,  where she had come when she had the afternoon off,  hoping to do something special for him by the time he got home.  but baking cookies wasn’t as simple as she hoped it would be ----  instead,  it had created a mess all over the kitchen,  on her clothes,  on her face.  the apartment didn’t smell of something sweet;  it stunk of something burnt.  she had intended to clean it all up before he got home,  to throw out the brownies and pretend it never happened at all,  but she didn’t have enough time then,  nor does she have enough now as she hears him coming closer.  ❝  ----  i didn’t do it,  ❞  she insists,  a weak,  innocent smile on her lips as she waits for him to enter the room.