We did the cleaning together. True to myself, I felt lightheaded, but sitting around while Maverick did the cleaning—my cleaning didn't seem to make any sense once I thought about it. I'm breeding myself to be the most single handed girl out there and I plan to be nothing like ladies who have men get their stuff done for them.
Even if the orange flavored poison was going to end me, I was going to be independent until the very end. That dimwit only asked me to quit pushing further once—even if he insists infinitely times, I wouldn't let him have his way "helping" me out because it only amounts to me being weak and dependent.
Like a timid child, the sun crept and disappeared behind the clouds, leaving us only with a dimness that was soon overshadowed by the intense glow of ceiling lights and wall fixtures after they were turned on.
My main goal wasn't to leave everything spotless; I simply wanted to be done with cleaning and collapse onto my bed after finally eating something heavy. So, when I believed I had finished, I reached for the dispenser and was immediately met with an abundance of sanitizing fluids, which brought a comforting sensation to my exhausted hands. Glancing over at Maverick, confusion washed over me. Is he ever tired?
I had completed the task at hand, and that was all that mattered. Using the last bit of energy I had left, I slung my longing bag over my shoulder, contemplating the most satisfying snacks I could glut upon getting home. I truly deserved it.
"Wait!"
Despite his words, I continued to adjust the straps of my bag. Why should I wait for him? After all, I hadn't asked for his help with the cleaning.
"Have you forgotten?"
So, what was there to forget?
"Organic structures," I heard from just a few steps behind me. I turned to face him, intending to respond, but my lips remained tight and reluctant. All I wanted was a massive, mouth-watering organic rotisserie—
"You focus on being perfect with everything while I stick to the imperfect things I do best," I blurted out without thinking. It was a Freudian slip, but it still needed to be said sooner or later. He was like a robot with OCD, meticulously arranging tables into perfect rows and columns, ensuring the curtains were flawlessly positioned against the shielded windows, and scrutinizing all the spots I had mopped. So, I should have expressed this even before he brought up the topic of organic structures.
"What you should do best right now is studying. You need to get into the best medical university out there—"
"That's... your... dream," I enunciated each word carefully, punctuating them with jabs towards his chest. "I don't have a dream."
I suddenly heard him snort and noticed how his lips formed a smirk before I turned to leave. Seriously, he's a waste of my time. However, I suddenly felt a force impeding my movement, causing me to glance over my shoulder with confusion.
"What do you think you're doing?"
"I have to teach you about the concept of organic structures. You need to understand it now and forever."
"I DON'T NEED IT!"
Perhaps it was due to the little energy I only had left for walking and breathing, Maverick was unfazed by my threat. Instead, he countered by dragging me along with the handle of my bag, prompting me to quickly wriggle free from my backpack which soon landed on the bare floor once he lets go of it.
With whatever energy I could spare from the one I had, I swiftly raised my fist and assumed a stance, aiming for his stomach. But as my fist moved forward, an unpleasant warmth enveloped my wrist and I found myself spinning over, causing the classroom to tilt at my sight as if on the verge of being washed away by flood.
"I may not have this dance with YOU!" Unfortunately, the backward kick I tried to aim towards his shin vanished into thin air as I felt him move behind me.
"Calm your nerves. Everyone in class seems to understand that topic except for you, because you were sleeping in class."
"If that's the case…" I heaved, "I'll read every textbooks in the library. I'll study on my own—why should you care if I understand it or not? I'm simply not interested in learning from you either."
"I never said I cared. As class president, it's my responsibility to ensure that all of us excel above the other classes. I have to make sure we remain in class 1 until we graduate."
I laughed, though it may have sounded maniacal as his words held no trace of hysteria. Could that be my fault? A hungry man is either mad or angry. My anger wasn't enough to keep him away; now I must come off as a lunatic. I'm so hungry! Is he blind?!
"What if I prefer class 10 now?" I challenged and he finally released my hand, possibly in shock. I didn't care. I spun around to face him, only to be met with a quizzical expression and raised eyebrows.
"I've fought hard to get to this point—endured a lot of unhappiness and messed up life. You find joy in studying, and you'll probably become the youngest, most perfect medical doctor in the future—good for you. What I'm saying is 'mind your own business' and LEAVE me alone. Stop touching my hands too. Your life will still be perfect even if I'm not in class 1. Just me won't make any difference to your image as the most competent and responsible class president. Besides, we won't have to compete for first place anymore." He's always the first.
After taking a moment to catch my breath, a tense silence followed. Does he finally understand me?
"Organic structures?" I inquired thereafter. "I'll learn them myself. Before tomorrow's class. Alright?"
My eyebrows furrowed, but he remained silent. I scrutinized him, ensuring he hadn't been electrocuted or turned into a statue. A moment later, he lowered his gaze to the floor, letting out a sigh.
I realized I didn't need his response. I should just snatch my bag and head out. What was I waiting for?
"It is not my fault your life is messed up," he suddenly uttered as I finished my musings. The words he said, though brief, felt piercing, like a sharp knife cutting through my chest. My lips parted, but I bit back my retort. There was nothing I could say—not without sounding wounded or accusatory.
"You can't go home now anyway. I informed Uncle about tutoring you, and he said I could drive you home when we're done. So, Mr. Ezra isn't waiting for you."
So, dad is in this too. I let out a sigh, feeling like a cigarette with smoke emanating, burning internally while releasing only bare fumes. I contemplated my options in a jiffy: jumping out of the window, getting deep cuts from the shards and dying from such height of fall, or slamming my head against the wall repeatedly. Which one would make Maverick happy? Which would free me from his shadows?
"T... True," I finally said with a wry smile, my eyes betraying my true feelings. To prevent them from brimming with tears, I turned away and blinked rapidly, hoping my voice wouldn't waver. I added, smiling for effect once I whipped around, "A useless person like me needs to learn from you. I get it now."
"Tish—"
"Say no more. I get it."
Exhausted from his endless barrage of words, I reached for the sanitizer dispenser again, thoroughly cleaning my hands, all the way up to my wrists. Perhaps the sensation brought me a sense of comfort. Or perhaps I just wanted to get rid of traces of my skin he had touched.
When I turned around, he had already taken his seat and placed another one across the table for me. With a heavy sigh, I removed my bowtie and tossed it aside, then rolled up the ends of my trousers up to the knees.
"Tish, what are you doing?"
He asked in surprise as I unbuttoned my shirt, freeing it from the confines of my trousers. Maverick whipped his head away, his hands covering his face. What was he thinking?
"I feel suffocated. I guess you'll never know how that feels." I spoke without thinking, wondering why I felt the need to explain myself to him.
Down went my shirt, and I finally experienced the sweet relief of freedom. I was now dressed in a sleeveless undershirt and uniform trousers, liberated from the confines of a bow tie and with my hair already secured in a bun.
Making sure to create a dramatic entrance, I sat with great force, intentionally being loud and rough. Maverick should have been turning the pages of the textbook to find the topic, or perhaps he already knew the page. However, his face was turned elsewhere. At that moment, I wished to smack him with a book.
"Do you honestly think I would undress for your benefit?"
"Please, just stop whatever you're doing. If you continue, I might consider sueing you for emotional distress—"
"What I'm trying to convey is that you're wasting my precious time. A flawless person like yourself should understand the value of time. WHY ON EARTH WOULD I STRIP DOWN BEFORE YOU?!"
"I'm being serious!"
"Just give me the card from my purse. I'll take a taxi home."
"You know you have to earn back the privilege of having that purse. I won't simply hand it over so easily."
I silently wished I could kill him, but he wouldn't end up dying either. I want to kill him but I don't want him dead. That's exactly how I feel, and the thought keeps tormenting me.
"Teach me and let me leave. Drive me home if you're not going to do the tutorial. STOP ACTING LIKE A PERVERT!"
"Did...did you just call me a pervert?" Finally, he turned his gaze towards me, his eyes sharp and focused, hands finally resting tensely by his side. I could repeat that word a million times, if only I were in a better mood. In fact, it felt as if the devil himself was feeling bashful about something!
"I'm finished here." After what felt like an eternity, those words finally escaped my lips. It had taken an immense effort to think clearly, but now I realized that I didn't always have to comply with everything. As he continued to maintain his intense "pissed off" stare, I darted up, asserting my freedom. He had grown accustomed to my contempt, just as one becomes accustomed to drinking water, and no matter how many times I expressed my hatred for him, he never kept off my lane. But luckily, I reminded myself that I am not a tree. If he won't move out of my way, I would.
Like a triumphant warrior leaving a destroyed battleground in movies without taking a last glance, I confidently forged my own path, gracefully navigating through the dark hallways and staircases. It was good I had my phone screen to help me through without falling.
"Hey! Students are not expected to be at school after 7pm." I suddenly noticed a bob-haired woman in orange colored uniform shirt and dark trousers approaching in the brightly lit lobby, a bunch of keys jingling and jingling along. I had no intention of staying at school until whatever time it was, if not for that dimwit.
"What is your name?" Her strict voice finally broke through my mental cursing.
"Morticia." I couldn't believe there was a school staff member who didn't know me. She must be new.
"As in, Morticia Addams?"
"Katz."
I watched as she narrowed her eyes, causing me to jump when she laughed at the most inappropriate time. She's probably crazier than me and it gives me goosebumps.
"I was only kidding." Her eyes rolled along with her hand. Then, I could hear resounding footsteps approaching from behind. "You're the Katz at Floradale…" Now she knew it was me, the one always jumping from one difficult situation to another—one warm water bowl to another hot wasabi bucket. "The heiress of bloomin-K…" Now, all I wanted was for her to stop talking. Everyone who knows about my family thinks being an heiress means I have an abundance of happiness, love, freedom— everything I wanted… and they never see me as "Morticia" but as an influential "Katz." This made my middle school years far from happy, aside from Maverick's existence. I was always surrounded by fake smiles, and I always fell for it. No one saw the real me, even if they were children of wealthy parents or teachers. I thought everything had already come to an end, until now.
"I had my medication delivered to me yesterday, and I really appreciate the medication management they offer. I was just called to remind me not to skip my medication—you know I'm diabetic…"
I nodded, my lips stinging from being forced to stretch.
"Morticia!" I flinched instantly, feeling like my temperature had dropped to -100°C. Here comes—
"This isn't funny!"
I hadn't even been laughing or anything. After looking over my shoulder and seeing him approaching with two backpacks and my shirt waving in the wind, I gave a slight nod to the security guard and hurriedly left. He could have his own "Oh! You're the heir to Heyday People Hospital" moment, if the security guard happened to know that too. But I doubted she ever would, because Maverick had barely faced what I had. He was my senior in middle school, but he had plenty of true friends, and I doubted they knew about his family. That's how lucky he was. Unlike me.
As I stepped outside, I shuddered, immediately missing my warm shirt. How was it so warm inside and freezing out here?
"Stop right there."
My teeth bit into my lower lip as I reluctantly turned around to face the sight of an angry red strawberry. He could burst anytime soon and jam would overflow and trickle down the stairs.
"What? I'm going to call Mr. Ezra." I pulled out my phone and waved it in his face. Now, he looks like my servant, carrying my bag and clearly frustrated. It was a beautiful sight I wished I could capture in a Polaroid picture.
"Fine!"
My eyes traced a larger path across my face. Did he just surrender? To me? Without a fight? A fight that would ignite the air and set Floradale High ablaze!
"I'm sick of you too." The words escaped his lips before I could snap out of my stupor. He forcefully tossed my backpack down the stairs and it landed on the bare floor, along with my shirt and bowtie which he hurled along the path too, glaring at me for a moment before he properly adjusted his own backpack. Now, he is no longer my servant. But who gave him the authority to treat my belongings in such a derogatory manner?
I didn't think it out before I lunged at him, seizing him by the collar, hoping he would understand how much I hated what my backpack and uniform had just experienced. Though he struggled to free himself, yelling my name, and how it was dangerous repeatedly, my grip remained firm. I moved in circles, refusing to let go until he lost his balance and nearly falls down the stairs too, but he didn't. Unfortunately, he successfully got my hands off.
"Uhh!" I heard him breathe after coughing like there's a frog stuck in his throat, but I rubbed my hands on my trousers to keep them clean. Perhaps now he will remember not to mess with me or my possessions next time, because I am going to go wilder if he ever does it again.
I was about to call Mr. Ezra immediately, but as I reached for my phone that had fallen to the ground, I noticed a peculiar swiftness as he snatched it before I could.
"Give my phone back," I threatened when I saw him slide it into his shirt. This time, it wasn't tucked away in his pocket. That made me realize how I couldn't help but find it awkward because he believed I wouldn't get it from there. In fact, my mind was already scheming on how to pull off two buttons!
"You've messed everything up. That's what you're good at."
A scoff initially escaped my lips, eager to provide an immediate retort. However, all I could do was continue scoffing like a glitching rapping engine.
"That's—" Even before I could utter the words my bewildered mind managed to produce, Maverick turned his back and sprinted down the stairs and away, cutting me off. Initially, I winced at the sight of him effortlessly outrunning me with his long, powerful strides. But later, I understood his intentions. That devil.
Engulfed in a whirlwind of conflicting thoughts, my gaze dropped to my poor backpack once I descended the whole double digits stairs, but that no longer mattered. I swiftly picked up my pace, hoping to catch up, as I couldn't let him have his way with my phone. How on earth does he expect me to call Mr. Ezra to come and pick me? That imbecile!
"No! No! Maverick!" I shrieked and panted as I caught sight of him climbing into his car, near the field. He clearly heard me but refused to acknowledge my screaming and panting and desperation, even though I dashed towards him like a crazed animal and bellowed for him to stop.
"Return my phone!" I shouted with the glitching tone I suddenly developed after running, noticing how he was closing up the roof of his sports car. I was so close to reaching him that I knew I would jump onto his windshield the moment I got the chance. But luck abandoned me when I needed it the most. Instead of giving way, my right leg got caught behind my left, causing me to trip and fall hard on my hands and bare knees. I pushed the pain aside and quickly picked myself up. However, as soon as I drew really near, his car sped off, almost as if he had been waiting for the satisfaction of seeing me fall. I'm never going to fall before him again!
"Maverick! You imbecile!" I yelled, waving my hands over my head in frustration. I could have exploded in that moment if it wasn't for the freezing cold night that counterattacked the 1000°C emanating from my cells. On the other hand, I had a sinking feeling that this was going to be my second longest and most dreadful night.
"Nincompoop. Stupid goldfish." I muttered under my ragged breath. "I hope you drive into the biggest snow pile and freeze in your car. I hope your heater breaks and you're left calling yourself a garlic-brained idiot. I hope birds poop on your windscreen and mad dogs chase after your car. I hope a thousand bees get trapped in your car."
My eyes stung, but I knew it had nothing to do with Maverick. I am brave, and nothing he does can ever faze me. Even if he holds a gun to my head, I will never be surprised. My eyes are only watering because of the cold, not because of him.
"Rotten egg. Moronic hippopotamus. Dimwit. Demon. Fish-brained—"
"You sure curse a lot."
Suddenly, my legs left the ground for a few seconds as I jolted at the sound behind me.
"Did you two have a fight?" My eyes landed on the security guard from earlier. Before, I just wanted her to stop talking, but now I already have an opinion about her.
"I know what it feels like," she said with a slight smacking of her lips, crossing her arms over her chest. What it feels like? Even if I explained it to her, she would never understand. The fact that she stood before me, breathing, meant she had never encountered someone like Maverick, and that scared me. What if I have to grow up with Maverick FOREVER around? What if the marriage joke isn't any joke? What if I have to see Maverick every single day—24-7—for the next 365 days?!
"Would you like to—"
"I'll stay here till tomorrow."
"What?!" She exclaimed as if it were a big deal. Floradale High is supposed to be a safe haven, especially for me. So, nothing terrible should happen, except for me experiencing withdrawal symptoms from webcomics and possibly starving to death.
"Did you really say you intend to stay here? At school? Until tomorrow?"
I forced a smile, giving a single nod before stepping back. It was imperative that I find a place to retreat to as soon as possible, or the cold would end up seeing the end of me. The security guard audibly scurried behind me, asserting her responsibility, but it only aggravated me further. She even pulled to halt when I waited to pull my folded trousers down.
"You cannot stay here overnight—"
"I will leave."
"No— I—I mean, it is not permissible. I would face consequences if your parents become concerned and the school authority discovers you refused to go home. It would put other staff members in a difficult position."
I didn't realize it until later. A Cheshire cat feeling played across my mind, and it felt like utterly DARK MISCHIEF type of emotion. Hearing the security guard's words must have ignited my inner devil-may-care spirit. Your parents? Concerned?
"My parents will not search for me." I confided in her as we walked side by side, through the grounds illuminated by several lampposts. It was a tranquil night unlike I thought it wouldn't, and I began to feel the weight lifting off my chest. "So... I promise to keep it a secret."
"Ah— W—What—" It was evident that she doubted my words by the way she continued to follow me, stumbling over her words. I grabbed my bag and held my shirt, glancing at her this time.
"I am dead serious about this. Besides, it would be easier if you simply pretended not to know that I am here. Do not tell anyone, understand?"
Her lips formed a line, and I could see the tilt of her head. Is she pitying me at this moment?! Ugh!
"I could lend you my phone. Call him and I will ask him to come back for you." I noticed how she rummaged for her phone in her pocket, the keys jingling and jingling.
"Him? He will never return."
"What if I call a taxi? Your mother and father—"
"I will be on the third floor."
As I had hoped, she did not delve further. But, perhaps she assumed my "parents" would be so alarmed that they would call for an expert search party, turn over the school with crazy-overprotective-parents drama, and sue the school for "kidnapping" their "precious" daughter. I took a step up the stairs, but on impulse, I turned back and mumbled, "Thank you."
Surprisingly, she gestured with her hand, and that made me immensely grateful. I would not have to endure any more lectures or answer any more questions about myself. My gaze dropped to her gold name tag, and then, I silently prayed I would remember her name.
"Oh! Let me fetch you something to eat and keep yourself warm."
She had read my mind. And if she hadn't, I would never have been able to bring myself to ask. I had never asked anyone for such a favor before.
"Should I order food, or would you prefer some cookies and yogurt?"
A halo seemed to pop above Mrs. Quinn's head. She was such an angel that it brought mental tears of happiness to my eyes. She should be a nurse, I thought, because she's too kind to remain a mere security guard.
"C-coo…kies," I managed to say, swallowing my saliva. Then, a wave of doubt washed over me as I considered the possibility that she might not be as kind as she appeared. I couldn't help but wonder if she could use food as a means to harm me, even if it was just cookies and yogurt. I knew that food could be easily poisoned or drugged—but maybe yogurt, too, could easily be injected with something, and I hoped deep down that she was truly a good person.
"Good. Wait here, okay?"
I nodded slightly, crouching down to the last stair as she hurried off as if I were on the verge of starvation. My fingers absentmindedly traced a smiley face on the bare floor as I sighed.
Now that I think about it, this was my first time sleeping outside of home, and I can already feel a sense of euphoria coursing through my veins. No Maverick, no dad, and no stepmother. I am finally free. But deep down, I can't help but wish that Jay was here with me...
As I waited, I delved into the depths of my backpack, searching until my fingers found a solid frame. I pulled it out slowly and angled it towards the nearest lamppost, capturing the scenery of the school grounds. Each snapshot came out neatly on the polaroid film, and I took one last picture of the night sky with its twinkling stars.
He had promised to return before I reached a hundred pictures, but here I was on number sixty-five. I had already surpassed the average. Maybe I should just take five more…
Mrs... Karen? Kiara? Kim? I still remember that her name started with a "K, but I suddenly felt the urge to smack myself on the head. How could I forget her name in just a few minutes?!
I glanced slightly as I heard Mrs. Security approach. How could I face her if I had forgotten her name, even though it was right there on her name tag for me to read and remember? I silently prayed that she wouldn't mention her name because I knew I would forget it. It had taken me two years in high school to commit Ashley's name to memory, and I still sometimes forgot her last name. In short, I could only clearly remember the first names of more than five people in our class.
"I hope you haven't caught a cold. It took longer than expected..."
No, I wouldn't catch a cold because I can't remember ever having one. My immune system have been fortified because of Maverick. My antibodies are nothing but rugged soldiers…
"Here, take these," she said kindly, her voice muffled beneath her cold, hoarse voice. I was glad to finally have something to eat, but it didn't last long, when she suddenly wrapped my neck with a purple knitted scarf. "It'll keep you warm."
I hesitated for a moment, unsure of how to respond. The scarf was an unexpected gesture of kindness, but as my eyes lingered on the vibrant shade of purple, a surge of unease washed over me.
It's just a scarf, but the moment my gaze lingered for a couple more seconds, a shuddery sensation traveled up my neck, as if tiny electric shocks were what it truly was. It spread like wildfire, encompassing my limbs and engulfing my whole chest immediately. Panicked, I stumbled off the staircase to the ground.
The thick wool of the purple scarf felt like sandpaper against my skin, and it constantly choked me. I tried to speak, to tell the security guard to take it off, but my words got caught in my throat and my heart pounded like a drum in my ears.
The scarf was suffocating me. I was sure of it. My breath became shallower and more labored, and my vision started to tunnel. I felt dizzy and faint, and my body began to tremble uncontrollably. I wanted to scream, to fight, to do anything to get the scarf off, but I couldn't touch it. I was paralyzed by fear. Every inhalation became a desperate gasp for air, my lungs begging for more oxygen. My palms grew clammy, a fine layer of sweat coating my forehead. Nausea washed over me, threatening to pull me under, while my arms grew weak.
I heard the security guard's voice, distant and muffled, but couldn't make out the words. She was trying to say something, to calm me down especially with constant rocking that didn't seem to calm me at all, but I couldn't hear her. All I could hear was the rushing of blood in my ears and the pounding of my heart.
I closed my eyes, trying to block out the world, but it didn't help. The panic was consuming me, and I felt like I was going to die. I couldn't breathe, couldn't think, couldn't do anything. I felt myself slipping away, sinking into darkness, and I knew that if I didn't do something, I would lose consciousness.
Maybe I had always joked about dying at any moment, but this time, I'm truly afraid. I don't want to die. I despise this feeling. Darkness keeps creeping in, swallowing me whole... But I don't want to be alone... in this suffocating darkness...
⫷⫸⫷⫸⫷⫸
With my eyelids heavy as if weighted down by a pile of glue, I forced my eyes to open. Yet, even when my gaze fell upon the room before me, it felt as if a fog still hung over my vision, preventing me from truly seeing. It was as though my eyes needed more time to adjust, while my soul floated light and unburdened. Whatever happened the moments before I woke up had left me feeling remarkably refreshed like a baby that has just been bathed and on the verge of falling back asleep. For the first time in my life, sleep had brought me comfort, shedding the weight of the world that had burdened my brain, heart, and limbs. It had all dissipated, tumbling into a deep pit in my dream, and I knew it with certainty.
Regrettably, my eyes parted open once more as though my sleep bank had its fill already, and I focused on the sight before me, trying to decipher its meaning.
They were stickers, adorning the ceiling, celebrating the world of science—a rather BORING choice of décor. But wait! This isn't my room. My life isn't some clichéd manga plot where the female protagonist wakes up in a strange place after a time travel, or a drama where she suddenly finds herself in a "guy's" house! No, I refused to let panic consume me. It had to be a dream. I'm going to wake up this time.
Attempting to sit up, my upper body felt stiff and reminded me of the fact that I'm probably growing older, forcing me to roll onto my side before attempting to rise. The bed I had slept in was higher than mine, lacking the four-poster structure. Bathed in a bright white light, it stood in stark contrast to my blue, less illuminated room. This bed was larger, the room accompanied by five well-stocked shelves teeming with books, and three other doors. It exuded a minimalist black and white aesthetic, smelling much like… sandalwood?
Struggling to recall the how, why, and what of my current predicament, I scoured the room for answers, but to no avail. Fear began to creep in, and the prospect of facing reality gnawed at my insides—although, wait! My clothes.
Immediately, I glanced down, feeling my body in and out, and breathed a sigh of relief upon recognizing my undershirt and trousers, my trusty uniform. What a fat relief!
Casting my gaze around once more, attempting to decipher any cryptic signs the room held, I found myself growing increasingly frustrated. Yet, a glimmer of recognition flickered to my face as my eyes landed on a silicone bunny lamp. I had the same one! Although one of the ears had broken. It had been precisely two years ago when everyone celebrated Maverick's triumph in a worldwide Mathematics competition, winning a gold medal. In the spirit of the occasion, everyone showered him with gifts. Reluctantly, I had decided to follow the crowd and bought him a two-in-one bunny lamp, secretly convinced that he wouldn't appreciate it due to his serious demeanor. Maverick wasn't the type who had ever shown likeness for cute things. And, as expected, he looked down at it with disdainful words—"I never asked you for any gift. You can keep your stupid rabbit stuff." Luckily, I kept one for myself instead and made it clear I was only doing it because others were.
The memory resurfaced, anchoring me in the realization that I was in Maverick's room.
So, I'm really at Maverick's.
I got out of bed, feeling a sudden surge of energy that quickly dissipated, leaving me slightly dizzy. Trying to soothe the pain by massaging my throbbing head, I felt a restraint on my hand. I could sense the weight dragging me down. Just moments ago, I felt liberated. So, why is my hand suddenly confined with a blue plastic, transparent tube and white tape?
My eyes searched the room, leading me to a metallic stand with a hook, holding an idle bag of water. Swiftly, I removed the tape, but removing the blue plastic was more difficult and it stung through my vein. It left a painful pang after getting it off and I knew it was going to swell.
I peeked through each of the three doors. The first one was a bathroom, the second, a less cluttered closet compared to mine, and the last one led elsewhere. Maverick's family had moved from their old estate three—or four years ago, and I had always avoided visiting them for years. Now, navigating their house was a challenge, but I had to find my way quickly. AND CONFRONT MAVERICK!
The three-storied house seemed grander than ours. As I made my way around, I could feel the warmth and vitality within it. I searched for the staircase, realizing that that was what a true home felt like. Unlike our house, which resembled a corporate office, everything there felt homely. Our house was filled with solemnity—Auctioned artworks they claimed to have hidden meanings, sculptures, towering bookshelves, with drug compendia, pharmacopeia and all, everywhere but the bathroom, balcony and kitchen, leather furniture, a globe at the dining table, framed certificates, diplomas, and medals, painted maps on the wall, potted plants, stethoscopes, glucometer, sanitizers, and first-aid kits, smell of medicines—everything makes me nauseous.
In this house, however, everything felt cozy and inviting. I discovered stickers, not just in Maverick's room, and their home smells like soothing Roses, except Maverick's room. A ginger furball of a cat scurried past me on the first floor—I had always wanted a pet cat. The soft lighting fixtures, frames with child scribbles like chicken scratches—probably drawn by five-year old Maverick, macramé and dreamcatchers, and vases filled with fresh flowers. It's an ideal home here.
Maverick has it all, but I still couldn't get myself to think of why he keeps jeopardizing my life. Maybe I'd be able to come up with an answer, but I had to figure out why it was so quiet. I ventured through open doors and various rooms until I stumbled upon the dining area. The table, mid-size, gave no sign of a business discussion place. Brightness illuminated the room, cast by the chandelier, causing my eyes to lazily roll as I spotted Maverick sitting at the table. It wasn't my place to interfere, but his incredibly formal attire stood out in his own home. His white shirt, perfectly pressed and extending to his wrists, paired with a royal blue waistcoat, exuded a modern Victorian-era vibe. I couldn't help but wonder how he managed to eat comfortably in such formal attire. Besides, his posture was too stiff and well formed. I feel sorry for him.
Our eyes finally met, causing my brows to twitch. Maverick briefly let his gaze fixated on me before returning to his reading, not too engrossed by the array of dishes surrounding him. Did anyone ever teach him proper table manners?
"Why am I here?" I finally mustered the courage to ask, attempting to push aside the jumble of thoughts in my mind. The aroma of food lingered in the air, a tantalizing mixture of smoky and meaty scents, with hints of cocoa, yeast, grains, vanilla, spices, and saffron. If it were Ashley's or Jay's table, I would have eagerly reached for the nearest spoon and devoured whatever caught my attention first. But being Maverick, I resisted the urge to get tempted by the sight of food, stubbornly maintaining my composure.
"I'm talking to you, idiot."
Slam! His book hit the free side of the table with force, causing me to nearly flinch. Maverick left it there, directing another gaze my way before speaking again.
"I should be asking the other way around. What are you doing here? Eat if you're hungry and just shut your mouth."
His words slithered up my spine, sending a shiver down my back. It wasn't a scared kind of shiver. It was a terror kind, and I was afraid of what extent he'd anger me to. Did he just bluntly ask me to shut up?
"Do you think I'd ever eat at the same table as you?" I scoffed, a sardonic smile forming on my lips. "What was I doing in your room, and why am I in your house? Surely, you're wise enough to comprehend my question. You're too wise to be a fool."
Silence settled between us, and I resolved to wait, refusing to be the one to break it. He better watches what he says next because I know he's only 1% normal if only he keeps his mouth shut. Despite that, I wanted answers because I now remember how he drove off after stealing my phone.
"I couldn't care less if you choose to starve to death, or glare at me like a predator. I don't care if you mess your life even more than it has been, but just make sure that if you pass out or get injured next time, it is somewhere I won't find you." He toyed with his food, poking at it. "Now, thanks to you, I have to stay up all night studying because you've wasted my entire day."