Perfectly Fake ✓

05: candy cane and gingerbread

05

MY BODY SHOOK with tremors and she moaned, kissing my neck and sliding off with a needy whimper.

"It's okay," she cooed, "it's over now, baby. Don't be scared."

I stared into space as she rubbed my back, trying to keep tears of frustration at bay. Her hand wrapped around my hair before she yanked back my head, making a gasp of pain escape my parted lips.

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry - please--"

"Come back, it's okay. Come back, Emile..."

I jolted awake with a sharp inhale, looking around in panic.

"I-" Rose sat in front of me with a concerned look in her eyes. "She- was- I-"

She squeezed my hand with a soft smile, making some tension go away.

"You're okay, Emile."

I nodded, pulling her forward. She smelled like roses, making me inhale deeply. The scent was familiar. Her soft touch was familiar.  She was someone who did not make me recoil in fear or disgust.

Someone who made me feel okay.

I pulled back after a while, embarrassed and mumbled an apology.

"That's what happens when you decide to take a nap instead of doing homework, dumbass."

I rolled my eyes, chuckling as she tossed me a completed worksheet. I kissed her cheek in gratitude before laying back on the bed. The broken spring from when Elijah had jumped on the bed did not bother me anymore. In fact, it helped me sleep. Soft beds reminded me of her house. Her cold, sterile, unnatural house.

Something that you would never be able to call a home.

It was hard explaining to mom why I didn't want a new mattress anymore when I had been bitching for one since last month.

"I need you to know something..." Rose murmured after a few minutes of comfortable silence, making me sit up. "I know something is going on with you. I know something is terribly wrong, Emile. And I'm begging you, I know I'm just a friend and you don't have to confide in me but please tell someone. Anyone, Emile. Tell anyone."

Her tone was pleading and desperation leaked through every word as much as she tried to control it. The dark circles under her eyes seemed more prominent and her cheeks more hollow.

Something sharp stabbed at my chest as I contemplated telling her everything. What I'd gotten myself into. How inescapable the future seemed. How helpless I felt. How hard it was to fall asleep. How hard it was to eat anymore. How hard it was to not cry.

"My nap was a result of your father's abuse of my cheek."

Instead of going along with the subject change as she does before, she gave me a smile. Her usual tilt of lips with the saddest eyes I had seen on a human.

I clenched my fists, letting my short nails pierce the skin on my palm.

I needed to drop the victim act and be happy. Rose shouldn't be worried about me. She shouldn't lose sleep over me. I didn't matter.

I wasn't even supposed to be born.

I was useless.

What was I unhappy about, anyway? That, someone, had finally made use of me?

Boo-fucking-hoo, asshole.

There were people out there living a far worse life than me. People who were dead because of what they went through.

Like Isla Winters.

I suppressed a shudder as the image of her battered and bruised face came into view and scooted closer to Rose who looked at me for a second before going back to re-reading the textbook.

"There are gingerbread cookies downstairs," I bribed, wanting her to stop studying. She had the text memorised.

Rose did not budge.

She didn't even look like she was salivating.

Who doesn't salivate at the mention of gingerbread?

"There's candy cane downstairs--"

"Let's go." She slammed her book her, making me smirk.

Rose loved candy - especially sour candy. Her birthday present always included a giant sour candy bouquet. But sweet candy, i.e. candy cane was okay as well.

How she had perfect teeth was beyond me.

"Yesterday I stubbed my toe against the table and I didn't even get angry," I told her before dipping my cookie into a cold glass of milk as she munched on a piece of chocolate. I averted my eyes, not wanting to seem like a creep. Even though I was a creep. Rose looked beautiful even when we took the ugliest selfies.

"How can a sane human being not get angry?" She asked after swallowing.

I pointed an accusing finger at her before sighing in disappointment.

"As I always say but you ignore me," she rolled her eyes at that but I continued. It's not like she'd take me seriously anyway, "I've been beggared in your love, crumpet. And the shape in that table reminded me of you."

She scrunched her nose, making me swallow.

Fuck.

Why couldn't she be less cute?

"Show me," she demanded, standing up.

I put my arm around her shoulder, kissing her head. She turned red. Very similar to Tinkerbell, I observed.

She was too fucking precious. And she was about to beat my ass.

"You saw a baboon in the table...?"

I nodded my head and beamed, confirming her theory.

"Looks just like you, crumpet."

She nodded, unperturbed.

"You might want to run for your life now, bitch."

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