May [H.S]

02 •

TW:  Homophobic comments, ( I do not support this behavior in any way, but it was necessary for the story. Feel free to hate on the person who says it.)

Magnolia

...

"Delightful, as always." He says brazenly, I ignore the husk of his voice. Kempty rolling my eyes as I settle myself down in the cold metal chairs. Struck by a bad feeling with the huge overhead light that did nothing to brighten the small room. My arms instinctively cross over each other in defense, feeling the need to protect myself subconsciously.

I grit my teeth, "Sorry I don't have time for you to ask me questions you already know the answer to, Prescott." Is what mutters coldly from between my lips, parting just enough to relay the frustration in the center of my chest.

He sighs— a great big sigh. Implying I'm a handful. "I know it's frustrating, imagine how frustrating it is for me." This is your job, fuckhead- I think.

I draw my tongue over my lips, a nearly unnoticeable tick to choke back the boiling mounds of annoyance. This was nearing the dozenth time I've had to come in here— this same creepy-ass room— just for him to ask the same question rephrased over and over. To the point, I'm starting to think they have me down as the lead suspect.

It's obvious, there's something they're not telling me. That makes this all a thousand times more frustrating. Despite everything, something in me wants to know what happened. Perhaps that might give me the closure to never have to think about him for the rest of my life. Once and for all let it go.

Admitting it's been better without him is slightly fucked up, with everything in mind. But it was, for the first time in years I've been the closest to my mom than I have been in forever. It seems with him out of the way we can genuinely connect. That barrier of judgment is slowly disappearing.

His facial expressions fall cold, serious as he stares blankly at the spot on the table my hands laid, fixating intently on the purple-hued mood ring on my thumb.