"Tell me something."
"i don't want to."
"Look at me. I want you to tell me something."
"i'm busy."
she sprawled out on the bed, stared up at the ceiling. counted the lines that criss-crossed the ceiling just to ignore him. he talked and talked at her, going on about something.
she did not hear a single coherent word. only running noise. she finished double-checking her count in her head.
"Medli, look at me."
she sat up slowly and looked at where he sat across the room. she made little patterns on the sheets with her fingers.
"what do you want?"
"I just have a question for you. That's all."
"fine." she raised her hand to twirl a lock of her hair around a finger.
"Do you regret it?"
"do i do what?"
"Do you regret it. What you did." he was getting agitated. "At all. You know damn well what I'm asking you."
she looked at him again, blinked at him as if it was obvious.
"of course i don't."
he raised his eyebrows.
"Not at all?"
she looked into his eyes, peered into their dim color with the vivid one of her own. she held his gaze.
empty, as always. she was beginning to think that she got a clear view of his soul through his eyes. it would be no different.
she spoke defiantly, proudly. knowingly.
happily.
"no," she said. and then, "i could kill you right now." she smiled as she said it. "i could cut you, and burn you, and twist you and break everything in your body. every bone. like sticks, snap." she giggled in her throat. "wring you out like laundry until you split open and spilled everywhere. it would be fun, don't you think? you would cry and beg and plead and scream, and it would be marvelous."
she wished she could project the image that danced before her own eyes into his. wished she could make him see it.
"but not tonight," she said cheerfully, and flopped back onto the bed, eyes scanning up to the ceiling. "i'm busy."
and she counted them again.