Mathilda
"Speak up, James. You can't remain mute like this all day." I give him a stern look.
But James looks away from me and scratches the back of his head again.
"You should leave then. I don't think you have to stay when you've chosen to keep things away from me for as long as possible, claiming I'm suffering from amnesia. When you have to tell me things of the past." Anger is evident in my voice, but I don't even care at this point.
I bite the insides of my cheeks hard until I can feel the taste of blood in my mouth which gives out I've injured the silk wet flesh because I am impatiently waiting for James to speak up from where he's seated or leave.
His head and shoulders sag down, and I can sense that he wants to talk, but there's something on his inside restraining him, holding his lips shut so he doesn't say a word.
