Hollow Blood

Chapter 3

I'm sitting on my bed, cross legged, with my back and wings pressed against the wall when I hear the sound of my door unlocking. Shay slinks in, her eyes cast straight forward, avoiding me. I just look at her for a moment before continuing with what I'm doing. She doesn't say anything as she quietly grabs up her pajamas and slips into the bathroom, closing the door behind her.

I sit with my journal in my lap, writing out everything I have to get done before school starts Monday. Before Shay had arrived, I had finally gotten a message from my mother saying that they stopped for the night, and would drive the last leg of the journey tomorrow morning. It was short, making my heart squeeze in surprise that my mom hadn't asked me about my first day on campus. Instead of dealing with the feeling of betrayal, I try to keep myself busy. Still, I feel my anger burning under the surface, the sting getting worse.

To say that I have no interest in fighting with my new roommate tonight, would be the understatement of the year. But with the way my mind seems cloudy with pain, I know it would be easy for me to start something. So I choose to follow her lead instead, and coexist in silence. No introduction needed. No need for small talk and skirting around the fact that neither of us wants to be sharing this space. Maybe if we can agree on that, we could make it through the semester without any issues. As long as she respects me, there is no reason I can't do the same.

She exits the bathroom, now in her pajamas, returning to the room with her eyes still avoiding me. I shrug, not caring if she decides to acknowledge me or not; heaven knows I've been treated worse. She flops down on her bed, rolling to face the wall, nestling under her dark covers. I just continue my writing quietly, only glancing at her once or twice as she gets settled.

The minutes tick by in silence. I check my phone, seeing that the time says 9:15. Clicking the power button again, I try to decide if I want to continue to write or if I should attempt to get some rest. School's starting soon, and my sleeping patterns have become so disorganized that I doubt I'll be able to return to early mornings. I don't quite know what I'm writing anyways, it's just an excuse not to think about my family or the fact that I'll have to go to sleep next to someone who hates me. My pen glides softly on the paper, drawing intertwining vines and flowers. A few lines of poetry accompany the doodles, though it's nothing great. My love for writing has diminished since my transformation, and the few lines I do commit to paper taste bittersweet.

I'm contemplating if I should start getting ready for bed when Shay suddenly throws her blankets off. I sit up straight, every muscle in my body tense from the unexpected movement. She swings her legs over the side of her bed, before stomping over to my side of the room. Mentally, I ready myself for a fight in case she decides to attack me, still not saying anything due to the shock. She never gets that far though, instead forcefully clicking off my lamp before storming back to her side. She throws herself down on the bed, and covers up again, going silent and still once more.

Staring into the dark, completely bewildered, my brain takes several minutes to process what just happened. I don't move for a long while, wondering if I should just lay down and go to sleep, trying to reason that she might have something going on early in the morning. Then it fully sinks in. Why am I trying to justify this? This isn't just her being cold to me, or having a hard time adjusting. This is her deciding she can push me around. Grieving or not, she can't treat me like this.

If you lay down now, she'll think you're a doormat.

Glaring at the blanketed lump, I crawl over, and click my lamp on again. I sit back down where I had been, but do not continue to write, instead staring at her. I wait for her to make the next move; it doesn't take long either. She tears her blankets off once more, but this time she doesn't immediately sit up. Instead she stares at the ceiling, glaring and saying nothing for a long while. Finally, her voice cuts through the tension between us, the ice in her tone making the fire in my blood boil.