𝗱𝗮𝗿𝗹𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗴𝗶𝗿𝗹 | prodigal son

𝗲𝗽. 𝘁𝗵𝗿𝗲𝗲 ▸ the men in your life

Maddy curled up on the queen—sized mattress like a kitten on a pillow. Her hair was untied, unrestricted, strewn across the white cotton sheets so gracefully, one would easily believe each strand had been professionally placed. The sleeves of her sweater puffed out like princess dresses, her sweatpants revealed only her bony ankles before they were enveloped by fluffy socks but, at certain angles, one could catch a glimpse of her waist beneath the cropped sweater hem.

The TV blared crime dramas in the background, the room as a whole contained aspects of childhood; trophies, baseball mitts, photos with unintelligible autographs scribbled over them in gold marker. Across on the bedside table sat an expensive, swanky watch that, if she concentrated enough on, Maddy was able to hear the crisp tick of among the gunshots and arguments radiating from the surround sound system. She choked on the burgeoning material shocking her with nostalgic colours from every corner. She remained there, completely silent, like a child nervously swinging her legs from a chair in a doctor's office.

A large figure wiped across her, blurred by the movement of a sizeable white towel, and the bed sank on her right.

'Honey,' a smokey voice greeted her, a defined hand rested heavily on her shoulder. 'What are you watching?'

'This was the first thing that came on,' she said in a small voice.

'Don't you think this might upset you a little?'

'No,' she shrugged. 'I'm not really paying attention, so-'

'I think we should change it.' He reached for the remote and sat back against the headboard, flicking through channels for something "appropriate".

Local news. It was bloodier than fiction. 'Chris, do we have to—' she trailed away as he quite aggressively turned the volume up. A young, blonde woman with symmetrical curls and cushiony lips stood solemn centre—screen. She spoke with sophistication, exuding the knowledge that she was the smartest and prettiest on the street. Maddy didn't hear exactly what she said, just that the case of The Surgeon's copycat was dangerous and unprecedented. She shuffled on the bed with discomfort.

'Hey, try and sit still, okay?' he said lowly.

'I'm sorry.'

The arm around her tightened and she ceased up. Maddy tried to breathe quietly as her gaze rose to his hair, still dripping from the shower. Damp strands hung over his defined brow, which was furrowed in deep, dark thought. Not looking away from the TV for a moment, he announced, 'I thought we'd go to dinner later.'

'Oh... oh, I can't. I have to see Malcolm tonight.'

He scoffed. 'Have you stopped eating again?'

'N-no!' she laughed out loud, 'I just have to be at work.'

Christian seemed as if he seriously thought about it before saying, 'Okay.'

Could he not be bothered anymore or was he truly that stupid? Maddy was too naïve to know that it was neither, though she refrained from questioning it further, grateful that he didn't press as hard on it as Malcolm or Jessica.

'You expect to be leaving soon then?' he asked stoically.

She shrugged so far her shoulders touched her ears like a tortoise returning to the comfort of her shell. 'If that's okay.'

A kind of warmth spread across his features. 'Of course. Do I get to say goodbye?'

Maddy hummed, nodded, and hopped up from the bed. His arm fell from her shoulders onto the pillow. It took six steps from the bed for her to wander into the swanky on—suite bathroom where she would lean toward the colossal mirror to identify new flaws on her face. Unless she looked like an extortionate painting, she simply could not be seen by human eyes.