" Nadia," So they all have names, they are not just their ranks, " Give us a moment, " Micah says in a flat tone and Nadia looks at him like he has lost his mind.
" Eagan can stay," He adds when Nadia doesn't move, nor breathes.
After a few seconds she nods, gives me a look that says 'Have mercy on him' and turns on her heels.
This is the moment where the villain in my story tells me why he needs to end me. They all are after all, predictable.
Clearing his throat, Micah takes a deep, cleansing breath and closes his eyes. And I wrestle with the impulse to punch him straight in the face. The only person who ever managed to stir me so deeply was Ava and at this point, I'm pretty sure that the buoyant blonde and Micah are related at some level. After all they share the same wheat blonde tresses.
" Not long now," He mutters under his breath and opens his eyes.
" Sit down," He commands in a stiff tone. It appears that I equally rattle his nerves just as much as he rattles mine.
I don't sit down, and just stare at him as his lips purse, and then pinch with disatisatifaction at my blunt disobedience.
" Very well. I see that through the ages some things haven't been worn down," He turns on his heels, and faces Eagan. Which is wearing a scowl, and glaring at me.
" I wish you would've died eighteen years ago. You were a mistake...The amount of trouble you have brought...," Eagan stops speaking as Micah approaches, and pats him on the shoulder as he passes by him.
And I'm left perplexed at the newly added information.
" I don't remember my mother saying that she had a difficult birth," I mutter only to myself but loud enough because Micah halts and turns on his heels.
" Alizee," He says as if it were supposed to mean something to me. It doesn't.
I stare at them from a distance, and he studies me with an expectant expression. I wait for more but he turns on his heels and leaves. It could mean anything.
I guess this conversation has run its course because they both disappear into the corridor and out of my sight.
I finally sit down and have a heavy breath. The conversation had exhausted me, and I only stood for about five minutes altogether.
I lie down because every single move is an effort and it drains everything out of me. I must be approaching the one-week mark because I feel my mind clouding and breathing is an arduous task.
And soon enough, I fall into the sweet embrace of sleep and seek solace there. I do not trouble my mind with seeking answers. I don't search for hidden meanings. I no longer have the strength to do so.
Perhaps it is so, because I have given up. Perhaps is just the lack of nourishment that makes my mind so hazy, and dark.
But if death comes for me, I wish it to be sooner rather than later.