My Poppy

Confrontation

I blinked several times before I could see clearly, trying to figure out where I was. Such a dark-themed room, the white sheets smooth under my skin. It was one huge room, bigger than mine back home. They pulled the silver silk curtains back, blocking out the sun yet leaving some light in.

Yesterday's event played in my head. I felt apathetic, feeble, and so alone. I sat up, hugging my knee right as the wound stung, pulling the white gauze. My palms were covered as well.

My clothes were off, I wore a huge black tee shirt. The cologne was strangely intimate. I pulled it over my nose as I took a huge whiff.

Just as I heard light footsteps drawing close, followed by heavy ones, and they pushed the door open. Little Marcus came into the room, squealed, jumping into my arms. His father followed right after, stopping at the door. Good thing I smoothed the shirt before.

My eyes briefly met his, my mind already conjuring lies. The little boy squealing in front of me snatched my attention.

"Hey, prince charming," I kissed his chubby cheeks.

"Daddy said you were sick," his eyes held so much sadness,

"I'm okay now, I've seen my best friend," attacking him with tickles. He giggled such a hearty and joyous laugh.

"Daddy, can she pick me up from school?" He pushed away my hands, looking at him expectantly.

Mr. Ferro had his arms folded with his brows knitted, a hard look on his face. He was dressed for work, adorning a brown suit, black shirt and tie.

"We'll see. Come," beckoning the boy.

He surprised me with a kiss on my cheek; I pretend to blush as he walked out with a cute smile. I waved as he left with some lady.

"Zack called," he said, walking into the room. He sat at the end of the bed. I tugged at the hem of the shirt. "They are awake." I tossed my legs off the bed, attempting to stand.

"You changed me," I said, sliding off the bed.

"Anything wrong with that?" I slowly rose from the bed, yet he pushed me back down, staring into my eyes. "You need to rest." he took my hands and removed the bandage, the skin of my palms pink and swollen.

"I am fine. Where are my clothes?" pushed him aside.

"Adeline," his voice deep and holding so much gravity.

"What!?"

"Will you quit pretending you are okay?"

"I am okay!" I yelled, but damn. My voice betrays me.

"Then why did you have handprints on your cheek?" my hand went up on instinct, touching my cheek, "Who did this to you?" his stormy eyes brewed with so much ferocity, I took my hands away from him, and rose from the bed.

"I don't see how it's any of your concern, now tell me where my clothes are," I walked towards what I assumed was the bathroom. He gripped my shoulders and turned me to face him, pushing me into the wall.

His eyes blazed with anger. Yet I found it hot. He was standing so close to me, I could see the veins protruding at his temple.

Unknowingly, my hands went up to his shirt, just as his hand caressed my cheek. We drew closer to each other, both of us trying not to breath too hard, his head dipping to mine.

My heart rate picked up, and my face felt hot, especially my ears. Just a touch of our lips, his soft as velvet I pulled back. I needed more, pulling his shirt lower till it firmly pressed my lips against his. Just a simple peck again.