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After I gave the three cups of coffee to the guards, I went to my room, shutting the door quietly behind me and threw myself on the bed, letting out a frustrated breath. This was all too much, a lot of work for me. And not just working or staying in a foreign place, no, apparently it wasn't enough, God had to add as many obstacles as he could.
The plan was to come here, work and pretend I'm completely fine with it like I always did until I finally went back home. What wasn't a part of that plan was her. She was freaking crazy. Insane. Beautiful.
I tossed and turned at the last thought. I hated it. I hated how I would freeze for a second when she spoke, how I would pay attention to what she says even when I didn't want to. Like that one time at the dinner table when everyone was in each other's throat, I never looked up once. This family was certainly not what I expected, but that's not the point now. The point was I looked up when she spoke.
Another day, another man with something stupid to say, she'd said that. I remember wanting to laugh, to joke around, but I didn't. I shouldn't want that. I shouldn't want anything to do with her.
The first time I met her, she fully convinced me she was mad, not normal. I've had people lose it on me before, girls who would yell at me hysterically when I ended something with them out of the blue, I got it, what she was doing. Or I thought I did.
Because I thought if I just talk calmly, call her a nickname that should have made her pause and think for a second then she'd go away, but she sure as hell didn't. She made me wipe the goddamn floor. Me. Holding a mop and wiping the coffee she spilled.
And just when I thought that was it, she appeared again in the airport. I tried to act normal, say hi to her, but she acted like I wasn't there, like she was the one still mad at me. I decided then that I'd have to actually treat her like I'm babysitting a child. She was very childish, immature.
I thought I was doing great until I had a knife to my chest with my back to the wall. That's when I realized she might actually be crazy, not just act like it. I actually got worried on what she might do, but then I found my thoughts drifting somewhere else.
I know who you are, I just don't care.
The way she said that, so sure of herself, standing her ground, not even fazed by me or who I am while most, if not all, people in my life would wish a conversation with me made me feel a little impressed. A small part of me liked how she was in that moment, but then I remembered the situation we were in and quickly got mad at not only her but also myself.
She was disrespectful, didn't care about who I am, didn't even look at me in a nice way. I wasn't lying when I told her I've never been in this situation before. I've never been in the situation of being this hated, never met a girl who didn't care about me or who I am, never met anyone like her.
