Mask | ✓

12

"Nolan, are you there?" I whispered softly.

My eyes scanned the small, cramped area in search of my brother, but I couldn't make out a thing. Everything was cloaked in darkness.

I didn't like the dark.

"I'm here, Nixon," Nolan whispered back. His hand quickly grabbed mine. "Everything's going to be okay."

Everything didn't feel okay. He didn't say anything, but I could feel Nolan's body shake against mine telling me that he was scared just like I was. Nothing was okay.

"How long do we have to stay here?" I asked him. "When's Mama coming home?"

"She'll be—"

The sound of the doorknob jiggling caused Nolan to freeze. My hand tightened around here as the light slowly flooded the dark area.

There he was.

His eyes were almost identical to the dark brown ones Nolan and I had, but they were darker. Scarier. His eyes slowly met my own and his nose scrunched up before he turned to glance at Nolan. Before either of us could consider moving, he reached out and yanked Nolan up, pulling him out of the tiny space.

"Nolan!" I yelled out, but my words fell deaf to his ears.

I leaned forward and my hand flew out in an attempt to grab my brother, but I was quickly pushed back. My head slammed against the wall, the door creaked shut, and the darkness that I'd grown to loathe engulfed me once again.

...

I quickly sat up, eyes scanning the unfamiliar room. Where was I? Where was Nolan? Wh—

"Nixon?" A familiar voice called out, followed by a knock. "Are you awake?"

That was right. I was at the Howling Night. I was staying with Tatum.

"Yeah!" I called out, my hand ran through my hair, and took a deep breath. "What do you want?"

The door pushed open revealing Tatum. His eyes first traveled around the room before they made their way back to me.

"Come eat. It's dinner time."

Dinner? Had I really been asleep for that long?

"Are you just gonna sit there or are you going to come to eat?" Tatum asked. "I know you have to be hungry seeing as you've kept yourself cooped up in here for so long."

I scowled. "Shut up. I'm coming."

Tatum didn't say anything else but I could see the amusement hidden in his expression.

"Hurry up," he said before exiting the room and leaving me alone again.

My hands ran over my face before I stood up from the bed. I was about to exit the room but paused when something caught my eye. Sitting neatly tucked away in the corner were my bags. I'd planned to go and grab them, but clearly, that had been replaced with sleeping. That meant Tatum had to have brought them up for me.

The man confused me. There were many things about Tatum that I didn't know or understand, maybe that was why he annoyed me so much. As much as I hated to admit it, he interested me. Most people were an open book — it was easy to tell what they were thinking, but Tatum? Tatum was anything but.

"Nixon!" He called out again, knocking me from my thoughts.

Shaking my head, I exited the room and made my way down the stairs. Immediately a smell invaded my nose. I entered the kitchen and sitting on the table were buns, patties, and condiments.

"You made burgers?"

Tatum shrugged. "I didn't know what you like, but seeing as you chose a burger when we went out last time, I figured it was a safe option."

"Burgers are fine," I said.

The both of us began to assemble our burgers. Neither one of us said anything. My eyes unintentionally kept drifting back to him though. He appeared calm on the outside, but something about him made me think that was a lie. It made me want to know just what had happened to him in the past. Who was Tatum?

"Did you need something?" Tatum questioned me. "You keep staring."

I could feel my face being to heat up and turned away. "I'm just surprised you can actually cook."

"That's surprising?" Tatum asked as he moved to take a seat at the kitchen table.

I moved to do the same and said, "You strike me as the type of person who focuses more on work and forgets to eat so someone has to remind you or bring you food."

"That's an oddly specific example," the corners of Tatum's lips raised. "I can't say that I do it often, but I do know how to cook. It's a skill I learned as a child, what about you?"

"What about me?"

"Do you know how to cook?"

Cooking had never been my strong suit. I was too impatient. I'd much rather go to a restaurant with minimal wait time or just go hunting.

"Judging by your expression, I'm going to say no," Tatum said.

I shot him a glare. "It's not that I don't know how to cook, I just don't like to."

"Alright," Tatum responded, but his tone told me that he clearly didn't believe me.

My eyes narrowed. "Are you doubting me?"

Tatum stared at me, the amusement from before was now becoming much more apparent. "Of course not."

"I can cook, Tatum."

"I'm sure you can, Nixon."

"Shut up. I'll make you something one day while I'm here just to wipe that look off your face."

"Alright," Tatum nodded. "I'll be looking forward to seeing your amazing cooking skills, Nixon."

"You better."

I grabbed my burger afterward and the conversation came to an end. The two of us fell back into silence again, but it wasn't awkward. Rather, it was surprisingly calming.

Once he was done eating, Tatum stood and placed his plate in the sink before he excused himself and disappeared upstairs. As he was leaving, I couldn't help but realize something:

This was possibly the first conversation we've had where neither of us had gotten angry at the other and I'd be lying if I said that I didn't like it.