He was under the mistaken impression that I didn't have enough tact.
The truth was, I had no tact.
It was entirely possible I would sexually assault him if I got too close.
Fear blossomed within her - not like a flower, but like blood welling from a gunshot wound, spreading throughout her entire body.
The calmness was fracturing, tendrils of fear seeping through her mind like ivy. Once the fear consumed her, she'd run.
Her gaze shifted away. "I don't remember my dreams anymore." It was like she was confessing a dirty secret. And maybe it was, because even though he hated the dreams, each time he had them, he was with his parents again. Hearing their laughter. Watching them live. But when he woke up they were really gone.
Do you know how often people tell me that? And they always look just as surprised. It's really irritating
Everything she knew about him rushed through her mind like a tidal wave.
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