Bruises

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Tim's POV

"...I don't need you."

I stared at her. Her face was beautiful, a medley of burns, pink and white and orange. Her gaze was fixed on the book on her lap, her pose uneasy.

"I know you don't need me. I need you." I said quietly, still looking at her, and although I had never said it before, I knew it was true. "Olivia, I need you."

She tore her eyes from the book and looked up into mine. I searched her face for emotion and couldn't find any. "No you don't."

"Please."

"I don't envy happy people because I believe that they must have their problems too, however minute. I have problems and they have problems, different in size and worth but not in effect. So I don't envy happy people." Her voice broke. "But I envied you because you were perfectly happy and nothing stopped you and it was as if you were washed in light and if you were the light and I was the darkness, and so I envied you."

I didn't speak for a moment. "I have problems."

Her expression was sour, and full of fake over-the-top sympathy. "What, poor baby couldn't get the jam jar open?" She hissed. Once she said it she looked horrified and dropped her eyes. "Sorry."

Surprisingly, I didn't feel angry. "You're right, I don't have problems, nothing like yours." I touched her cheek and stepped towards her. She didn't move, frozen in time. "My only problem is that I betrayed you and you don't want to be my friend anymore."

"That isn't a big problem. You don't want to be around me. I'll make you dark." She whispered.

I sighed. "If so, I'm quite sick of the light."

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