TWISTED ꜜ LOUIS PARTRIDGE

⟾ 17 | MISTAKES

LOUIS🗡

Saturday, 8:34pm

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I'M QUESTIONING MY EXISTENCE.

Every minute spent with this woman is another minute where I wonder how the hell I ended up with her. I used to have a reputation to uphold, but now I'm a wanted 'criminal' on the run with an actual criminal, and she's being the most confusing person on Earth.

This is [y/n] Ash we're dealing with here. She set things on fire, blew things up, and held a knife to my throat just because she was bored.

But apparently she's also the kind of person who'd risk her own life to save a tiny animal, and who searches a beach for an hour just to find the person the cat belonged to. Not to mention the watery eyes when she realized she had to give it back.

"I miss him," she whined, trudging through the street of a busy section of Barbados, "Mister Scratchy was the best thing in my life."

I squinted my eyes. "I highly doubt that."

"You always doubt me."

"Not always."

"Name one time where you actually took me seriously," she said, turning her head to shoot me a dirty look, "bet you can't."

I opened my mouth to respond, but decided against it.

The answer to that question was not one I should openly say. It would either be taken the wrong way, or just make things awkward, and I'm not ready for another one of her angry moods. How would I even phrase it?

Oh hey, Ash, I take you seriously when you're committing domestic terrorism, becuase that's a a serious topic, but I also took you seriously when I had my tongue down your throat, but we aren't going to talk about that, hm?

Yeah, so I'm not going to say that.

It was too late, and we were too hungry to go and find her parents now, so we decided to find a hostel we could stay at. After talking to some of the street vendors, we were directed to a place at the edge of town, mint-green walls isolated from the sandy ground.

"This is cute," Ash said excitedly, passing through the gate, "very homely."

I furrowed my brows. "It's small."

"Small? This is huge."

"The front porch is the size of my bathroom," I said, "I bet the entire kitchen is only half the size of my living room."

Once again, I was used to luxury. Switching from a well-paid and privileged life to a rationed, quaint, and questionable life was a struggle for me. All I wanted to do was go back in time so I could read my book in the comfort of my apartment.

"First-World problems," Ash scoffed under her breath, "grow up, please."

I frowned. "I am grown up."

"Then why do you act like a child?"

"Why do you act like you're any better?" I said, following her inside, "don't call me a child, like you weren't blowing things up just because you were bored."

Exactly.

She knew I had a point, so she snapped her mouth shut, deciding to ignore me instead. These petty arguments were getting tiring, and I just wanted to stop talking at all if it meant I wouldn't have to constantly defend myself from her criticism. The difference between us was that I criticized her in my mind—not to her face.