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“I used to be an interior designer.”
“Used to be?”
“Well… I’ve been on a long unintentional sabbatical for the last six months.” She rolls her eyes, and I feel a strong need to tie her to the St. Andrews Cross all over again.
“Do you still want to be an interior designer?”
She sighs, “Yes. I love interiors; planning a home is not as easy as people might think. Style is not enough to make a home. It’s a relative concept. What feels like home to you, will most likely not feel the same for someone else.” I swear her skin seems more luminous and her back is straighter as she talks about this. She didn’t even need to tell me she loves interior design, I can quite literally see it painted on her body.
“But you’re not a massive fan of people, how did you manage this career?”
“Online. I’m not a conventional interior designer, mainly because, well, you said it, I don’t like people. I just like their homes. They send me plans, videos etc., we talk a little bit, I send them sketches, renderings, mood boards, furniture suggestions.”
Sketches… interesting. She draws.
“And this works? People actually trust the process when you’re not actually going into their homes?”
“Yes. Believe it or not, not everyone wants a conventional interior designer, not to mention that I cover a side of the market that is much more accessible, cheaper. It works. Well… it worked.”
“It will still work, especially since you can do it wherever you are… your office is pretty much your computer.” I tell her, wondering if she gets the allusion I’m making. She could work in a different town, in a different state… even on a mountain.
Fuck.I have no business having thoughts like that after I’ve known this girl for just a few days!
Yet, I can’t seem to help myself. A lifetime… a lifetime has passed since that first scream broke my soul open, a lifetime since the second one pried the demons out… and she… well she made the monster want her. And fuck… I want her, I want every single bit of her. I want her beautiful voice, I want her unnaturally bright eyes, I want her long hair wrapped around my fist, I want the pulse of her throat under my hand, I want the taste of her blood on my lips, I want to pry open her mind, not just to find out what she’s hiding from me, from herself, but I want it so I can learn every detail about her.
I want her… I can’t let her go…
She’s my banshee, and I am her monster.
