Scarred

Chapter 7.

Theo

The water hitting the wall in the shower sounds unpleasantly in my ear, which I take as a sign for me to turn it off. But I don't get up. I am too transfixed laying here on this bed; thinking of - as much as I desperately tried to deny it to myself the moment I woke up, perplexed by the events that just took over my whole entire sleep - her. I don't know how this happened. Maybe it's because I've been deprived of being in such close conversational proximity with a girl in such a long time; maybe it's because I haven't had the luxury of dreaming on a warm, comfortable soft bed in months; or maybe it's just the plain effortless truth that I don't want to admit. The memories of her brushing her soft lips against mine and me running my hands through her hair come running back, and the long sought out conclusion finally hits me - I am well and truly screwed. A day. One day and I'm already dreaming of having sex with the girl I am living with, whilst she and her overbearing condescending mother slept not far away from me.

I had to allow myself to be around her, even just for a second, just to see what emotions would course through me. I didn't expect to come up with the pathetic excuse of needing lotion, but the fact that we barely know each other prevented me from barging into her room, acting as if I wanted to just engage in a friendly conversation with her. I felt a huge relief wash over me as she didn't mention the countless amounts of lotion that is in the bathroom for the room I've been lent. How would I have explained that one?

The moment I saw her, wrapped all elegantly in that white towel - and then looked into her glazed brown eyes, it became official for me - I like her. I don't know how that is possible. How can you like someone you haven't even known for a week? We haven't even had a full conversation yet. I don't even know anything about her apart from her name, and the fact that her mother is a pessimistic control freak. I don't even know her age. But judging by the fact that she goes to college, she must be 18 or 19. She doesn't look any older than that.

My undivulged thoughts are put on hold by the pacy knock I hear on the door. My brain freezes as I silently pray to myself that it is not who I think it is. Her. My body slowly rises as I sit on the edge of the bed, my face flat on my palms. I breathe a heavy sigh and open the door to find the uninterested face of Rosanne offering its service to my already apprehensive system.

"Hello," I say, fear sifting into my body at the thought of getting kicked out.

"Theo," she simply replies. "I didn't realise last night that you would be alone here today."

"Oh. Well... I'll keep the house tidy."

"Yeah that's the least of my problems. Actually, that does bring me to my point. I don't want you leaving this room."

"Sorry?"

"Did I say I was done talking?"

I blink excessively as I try to brace myself for the painful conversation that will ensue.

"You will not be leaving this room. You will not be going anywhere else in this house. You've got all you need in here - a toilet, a shower. Clothes," she adds in as she eyes my dirty belongings that lay on the floor beside the bed.

"You will not be going to the kitchen. I will make you a sandwich that you can have for lunch and give you a bottle of water, and that's it."

"Rosanne..."

"I'm still not done talking," she sings. "I know your kind, okay? You make yourself seem so desperate and innocent so you can walk into the home of a naïve person and take them for all that they're worth. Well, you won't be doing that here. All the jewelry in this house is locked up, but I'm sure that won't stop you from trying to find something else of valuable possession. Just know that I am aware every single thing that is worth something in this house, and I will know within a second whether you've taken it or not. And believe me, I know you'll be looking. So you're not leaving this room," she repeats. "You will stay here until it's time for dinner, at which point I will call you downstairs, and you will put on a smile that seems to be non-existent of the vocabulary on your face. But nevertheless, you will fake one, just like you faked your desperation to my daughter."