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“Yeah,” I whisper, standing up and straightening my t-shirt out that is full of creases. Her eyes narrow even further when she sees what I’m wearing—one of the many slogan t-shirts that I own.
I swallow against my dry throat, my feet shuffling on the floor as the atmosphere becomes thicker.
“You don’t even remember, do you?”
“Erm…” I frown, having no idea what she’s talking about.
She throws her hands up in the air. “You were meant to meet me at my place!”
I cringe as she shouts, hating how it fills the small space of my cabin. She always does this, she thinks that the louder she shouts the more impact she’ll have when it’s really the opposite. As soon as she raises her voice, I freeze, my mind taking me back to a time when that’s all that ever happened.
I’ve never told her about my childhood—about my past—all she knows is that I was adopted at nine years old. It isn’t that I didn’t want to tell her, it’s that I knew she didn’t want to know. I’ve never felt like I wanted to open up about it anyway, and maybe I never will. But that’s okay because I have my own way of dealing with it. I may be an adult now, but those memories will never fade. I can close my eyes right now and see and hear everything as clear as if it was happening to me in the present instead of the past.
Movement brings me out of my own head and I watch as she stands up, her mouth still moving as she continues to shout. My ears buzz with white noise as I stare at her with wide eyes, not one word of what she’s saying getting through to me.
It isn’t until she storms past me, shoving her shoulder into my chest and making me stumble backward that the white noise stops. The slamming of my door vibrates against the walls causing my muscles to unlock and I finally manage to move, pulling the door open and following her out.
Her head whips around, her eyes narrowing in on me before she spins back around.
“You’re fucking useless! Why the fuck I put up with you, I don’t know!”
“Geena,” I plead, following her across the gravel that covers the whole compound.
I reach out for her but she pushes me away, making me stumble again.
“Don’t fucking touch me!” she screams. My eyes widen as I see her face covered in a mask of pure anger.
I open my mouth to say something—anything—but nothing comes out.
“Hey!” a voice shouts and when I look over, I see Kitty standing in front of her place, boxes surrounding her as she moves out of the compound and into her own place with Charlie. She steps forward but I give her a look and a quick shake of my head, telling her—begging her—not to
get involved. The last thing I need is any of the guys witnessing this. She comes to a halt but I can see that she wants to say something—do something.
The sound of a car door shutting echoes around the compound and I watch as Geena speeds over the gravel, dust kicking up as the gates open and she drives through them before another car pulls inside.
“Evan?”
“Not now, Kitty,” I sigh, looking at the ground and slumping my shoulders forward before walking back into my cabin.
It’s all my fault, if I hadn’t have gotten so engrossed in my computer then I would have remembered that I was meant to be at her place. I should have set an alarm on my phone. Stupid, stupid!
I stand by my front door, looking into the small cabin that I call home. Geena hates this place, much preferring me coming to hers instead. She’s constantly telling me that I got the raw end of the deal, that the other houses on the compound are so much nicer and that it isn’t fair that they got those houses and I ended up with this.
It doesn’t matter how many times I tell her that I don’t want and never did want one of the other houses; it never seems to sink in. This is me. This cabin is where I feel the most relaxed. I don’t need a big house with five bathrooms and eight bedrooms.
Having too much space with lots of hiding spaces makes me nervous, but then she wouldn’t understand that because she doesn’t know what used to happen to me.
The cabin is basically one giant room of open space. As soon as you walk through the door, you step into the living room/bedroom/office/kitchen. My computers sit off to the right along with my chair that cost more money than anything else I own apart from my car, but it’s a pretty freaking cool chair. The black and red leather that covers it houses speakers: it’s a special shape that helps your back from aching when sitting for long periods of time.
Then in the middle I have my couch pushed up against the wall that pulls out into a double bed, to the left of that is a small kitchen, just enough for me to cook something simple. Next to that is a door that leads into a shower room along with another door that is storage for my clothes and that’s it… it’s all I need.
Well… apart from my safe room below, but no one knows about that.
There’s nothing on the walls apart from the wood that has been treated: I love the cozy feel. Nothing else compares to it, and I’m proud to call it mine.
I don’t know how long I stand here for, staring at it all without really thinking of anything in particular, but a knock on my door gains my attention and my breath catches, wondering if Geena came back to tell me off again.
No, it can’t be her, she wouldn’t have knocked.
