The long silence she's inflicting is suffocating. The risen tension is still there as she hasn't spoken in almost a minute. She occupies herself with the work on her cauldron, ignoring my awaiting presence.
I imagine approaching her while she's busy, turn her around by her shoulders to face me, and I'll scream out my frustrations that she had built up in me.
I'm fighting the strong urge.
My gaze shifts from left to right until I couldn't be any more bothered and let out my annoyances, "you shouldn't have let me in if you weren't going to help me in the first place."
The toxicity evident in my tone even surprised me, knowing that I have never sounded this way before. No matter how much a person gets under my skin, I always managed to keep a decent attitude, even in the worst situations. I felt as if anger was no longer an option for me to feel and express.
