TWISTED ꜜ LOUIS PARTRIDGE

⟾ 10 | SHUT THE HELL UP

drumroll please...

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Y/N 💥

Monday, 8:56pm

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HE HAS ONE DAY LEFT.

I spent the past two days avoiding him at all costs, making sure Millie covered any traces I left when I would leave the compound. I wasn't messing around anymore, I was waiting.

And he was almost out of time.

I'd decided to form a habit of covering my tattoo with gauze, making sure not even an accidental shift of my sleeve would let someone see it. I was offended that day—he saw something he shouldn't have, and diminished my reason to hide it—so I was doing everything in my power to make him pay.

And to think I almost saw him differently that day.

I thought—for a second—that maybe I didn't hate him. Not as much as I should, that is. In a week I needled him, teasing and ridiculing his pathetic excuses, but then I realized that he stopped chasing me. It was like he didn't want to. So I went to his house, made him actually fight back, and thought that would fill the bored hole in my heart.

But it didn't.

It only made it grow.

"Don't be ridiculous," Millie said, shutting her computer, "you must have been mistaken, there's no way you could have liked Louis Partridge."

It was quiet in the compound, just the two of us sitting in my room with our gazes low and broken. For the last few days, I'd noticed her acting strange whenever I'd bring the boy up, and I wasn't sure why. She seemed tense just by hearing his name.

"It was strange, Mills," I explained, "for a moment I didn't feel like we hated each other."

"He's tricking you," she said curtly.

"He wouldn't do that."

"And you know that how?" She said, "don't go soft on him, [y/n], remember where both you and he came from."

"I know."

"And tomorrow you have to kill him."

Maybe it was because I'd never met such a dumb, violating, rude, arrogant, socially unaware, ruggedly handsome, brute before, so I was only interested in him because I wanted to figure him out like a science experiment. Find what nuts and bolts made up such an awful person, and see what he'd do if someone was to push all of his buttons.

But that wasn't entirely true.

Somehow.

Being isolated most of my life took a toll on how I interact and read people socially, so it is harder for me to know what everyone else thinks of me. I've learned not to care. But now I find myself caring what he thinks.

The sod.

"You hate him," Millie said, looking me sharply in the eyes, "don't forget that."

I nodded my head. "I won't."

"Good, now get some rest."

I watched as she left my room, flicking off the lights and disappearing down the hall. But I didn't want to rest, I wanted to understand. I wanted to know why I can't figure out what I'm feeling, and if he feels it too. I had to learn. I had to ask.

I had to find him.

Waiting till I heard the door to Millie's room shut, I put my spontaneous plan into action. Making sure my tattoo was fully covered, I grabbed my boots from the corner of the room, slipping on my jean jacket as I slowly creaked open my door.