The Fire In Me (Ryder) (COMPLETED) 1 ✔️

Chapter Thirteen All You Can Eat

Little do you know- Alex and Sierra

    My eyes stay open as I stare blankly at the ceiling. I hear him pacing outside the door. We've been at his apartment for a couple of days now, and I haven't exactly been out of this room. I've taken showers, changed clothes, and I've eaten every time he made something or brought something here, but I didn't eat it out there with him. I ate it in here. Alone. I like that I get to be alone in the bedroom, even if I feel bad that he has to sleep on the couch.

     He's tried making conversation with me, but I either haven't responded, or I've said one word and ended it at that. I don't know why I'm being like this. Well, yeah, I do. He forced me to come here. I don't like it if people force me to do things. Even if it's good for me, I don't want to be forced to do something. I want to choose to do something because I want to do it. This is my life. How can I live my life if people keep forcing me to do things?

     What makes everything worse is that he took my phone. Yeah, he took my phone. His words: 'I don't want you to call anyone or run away and get yourself hurt.' He was right, though. I was going to call someone... maybe Archer, and ask him to pick me up and take me away. I don't want to be here with Dallas. Even if I feel safe with him... I don't want to be in the same building as him. So I've been giving him trouble. Arguing and everything.

     It's his fault, anyway. He shouldn't make me stay here when I don't want to. He claims it's for my protection, but I don't know why he feels the need to protect me. He never cared in the first place, so why would he care now? He probably doesn't, but I don't know why he seems to want to help me so much. Even though this is all his fault. He killed a man, and I saw. I can't believe that Dallas is actually a murderer. A killer.

     And here I am, living with him. I'm living with a murderer. Well, it's not like I had a choice in the matter. He dragged me from the girl's house and said I had no choice in the matter. And here are the questions I've asked so many times. Why is he helping me? Why does he want to protect me? It's not like he owes me anything. Why doesn't he kill me and get this all over with? Why doesn't he do anything? It's Dallas.

     "Okay." I hear him say through the door as it opens. Dallas walks in with a large knife in his hand, holding it in the air. I immediately sit up and scoot back on the bed until my back presses against the bed frame. I hurriedly pull the covers up to my face.

     "Why the hell do you have a knife?" I ask, voice trembling.

     He looks at the knife in his hand and then back at me before he lets out a sigh and lowers the knife to his side. "I was cutting up some stuff..." He says and then gives me a strange look. A look that was almost a feeling of disbelief. Why is he giving me that look? Why does it make me feel bad? He takes a slow step towards me as I bring my knees up to my chest. "Rex." He says slowly and calmly. "I'm not going to hurt you." Why didn't I believe him? "Look..." he stops talking as I raise an eyebrow.

     He walks out of the room, leaving the door open. I hate when people leave the door open to my room. I close the door for a reason, people, like seriously. I put the covers down and start to get up when he walks in, holding a tray with food on it this time. He left the door open again, coming to the other side of the bed and setting it down on the nightstand beside me. I stare at the open door, trying to use "the force" to close it. Nothing. Lame.

     "Why do you look like that?" He asks with narrowing eyes.

     "You left the door open. Again" I whine as he gives me a look.

     "Seriously." I point.

     "I closed the door for a reason, and you just barge in here, leaving it wide open. I don't like it when the door is wide open." I shift in my spot on the bed. "It feels weird."