And His Jacket Smelled of Cigarettes

24 · Days

     For the next few days, our nights together passed in silence. Taking showers continued to be an everyday thing, and I often looked in the mirror, monitoring the improvement of the bruises on my neck and arms, which were starting to look worse rather than better; almost routinely, I took the necklace off and back on once my shower was done. Donn went outside to smoke his cigarettes, seeming to forget he had said he was going to quit. He hadn't fed for days, and it was starting to show. Bags had begun forming under his eyes, he was loosing muscle mass, and he was sleeping longer than usual. One night when he was walking in from his usual smoke, I grabbed him by the arm, determined to get something--anything--out of him. Donn spun around, raising his hand as if he was about to hit me. I reacted and shielded my face, looking at him between my fingers. His expression softened.

     "You... h-haven't talked to me in days." I said, lowering my hands. He looked at me coldly.

     "That's the point."

     "Did I do something wrong?" I asked, stepping closer to him. He took a step back.

     "... No."

     "Then... then tell me! Y-you can't... you..." I bit my lip and quieted down, trying not to freak out on him. There was a fragility to the situation that prevented me from approaching Donn seriously, and that realization was breaking me down. The tears started streaming down my face, and I flung my arms out, screaming at Donn.

     "Fuck, I-I don't care anymore! You... you are sick! You think you have the right to mope around when you're the one keeping me here? Like this?! L-look what you've fucking done to me! I-I make one wrong move and you fucking... e-explode on me! I never wanted to come here! I-I'm only here so you wouldn't m-murder everyone I care about! Everyone... everyone I'll never see again." I lowered my voice, making direct eye contact with him for the first time in days. "Every time... I think about what you've done... I feel... s-sick to my stomach."

     "Then leave." Donn's expression didn't change. His face was serious, but surprisingly, not an ounce of anger showed.

     "... What?"

     "I'm not going to repeat myself." He turned away, walking back toward his room. I scurried behind him.

     "Wha... you... I-I don't understand. Is this another one of your fucking tests?!"

     Donn turned around, looking down at me, "It's not. If you want to leave, just go."

     My head was swimming with thoughts, and I felt several emotions at once: anger, sadness, relief, but most of all, confusion. How was I supposed to react? "Now... now you're just going to kick me out? After everything?"

     "You're being irrational. I'm telling you, you can leave. There's no catch. I won't kill you, any of your friends, or your family." Donn raised his hands. "You're free." He continued moving toward his room, walked inside and closed the door in my face.

     "This... this is ridiculous," I said, banging on his door, "you're being irrational! You'll... you'll die without me! Don't think I haven't noticed you aren't feeding!"

     Donn's voice faintly came through the door. "Go away."

     "You're being a coward! You're gonna kill yourself over... over what?! Me? Donn, open the fucking door! Donn!" I stopped hitting the door and listened, hearing no reply. I sighed, wiping the tears from my face. Taking a deep breath in, I pulled the necklace out of my shirt, looking down at the sun charm. I clutched it between my finger and tried the doorknob, watching as the door swung open. Donn was seated on the edge of his bed, his hands over his face. I walked forward and slowly sat down next to him.