AN: I was in one of my dark, depressing moods when I wrote this – definetly
not my finest hour. But, I would like some constructive critisim. It's
short and sour but…I had to post it. Don't worry – I'm working on happy fic
now. Call this dabbling in the black arts ;)
"Smile, Syl, try and smile," I hear someone say. I roll over, and gaze into Krit's concerned eyes.
"Hmm?"
"I knew you weren't asleep, ha!" he teases me, but I can tell his heart isn't in it.
"What's wrong Krit?"
"You came home late again. Completely drunk," he's concerned, I can tell. He touches my face and I pull away and sit up in my bed, all in one movement.
"I don't mean to," I smile at him in a practiced way – if I smile Krit thinks I'm okay and maybe he'll make me breakfast.
"Stop pretending, Syl," Krit snaps, looking older that 21.
"You asked me to smile and I have," I argue, slipping out of bed. I hate summer in New York – too hot to wear any form of pyjamas; and my underwear is slippery with sweat. "I'm going to have a shower."
"Alright. What would you like for breakfast?" he asks, climbing out of my bed.
I glance at the clock. Almost 10:30. No wonder my room is so hot now.
"I don't mind," I beam at him.
"Hurry up and shower and then we can go out," he orders me.
The water is cold and that is a good thing; far too hot for a hot shower. I wash my hair and get out of the shower and get dressed in a tank top and denim shorts. My sneakers are on the television and I never pull my hair off my face.
Smile Syl. Smile properly.
Why smile? People smile when they are happy and I am not happy.
Get dressed up Syl, and I'll take you out.
Why get dressed up, Krit? So other men can look at me, wishing that they could…
Why go out? Going out means you want to talk to people and make friends. Why should an X5 make friends? Zack will make us move from NYC soon and we'll have to make new friends. Friends want to listen but I don't want to talk.
Anyway, you're my friend Krit. And Zack will never split you and me up 'cause I cannot be trusted to live alone.
Zack worries about me a lot, I know that.
Krit grins at me. "Sorry Syl, I'm not the whiz in the kitchen you are." He's made toast.
"I'll teach you one day, Krit,"
"Instead of going out?" Krit asks suddenly.
"You know I don't like nightclubs," I say in a whisper, that feeling of dread tightening in my chest.
"Zack told me last night- he rang when you were out," Krit squeezes my hand.
"I don't have any idea what you are talking about, Krit," I say firmly, pouring myself a cup of coffee, my hand shaking.
"You don't drink coffee, Syl," Krit's eyes look…defeated.
I frown. "I'm confused."
"Zack told me, Syl, about that guy – your foster father – who attacked you."
Oh yeah… You don't get it Krit, Zack? I met up with Zane once, after his girlfriend, Peta, died. He told me that the past is easier to forget when you drink alcohol...he told me that when I was twelve… long time to be drinking, Syl.
I know that. I don't drink all the time, though.
Only some days. Only after Krit's gone out with that girl from work or he forgets about me.
"How old were you Syl?" Krit asks.
"Promise me you won't go out with Her again?" I say, watching the honey on my toast begin to congeal.
"You mean Becca?" Krit looks confused. "I don't understand."
"I'm tired, can I go now?"
"Syl!" I feel him grab me around the waist and pull me into his lap. "Talk to me, kitten…you know I'll listen…" He's getting scared…
"I was almost ten I think and it was just after we escaped," I murmured into his shirt, burying my face into his shoulder. "Don't go out with Becca again, promise me?"
"Only if you promise to stop drinking so much?" Krit lifts my chin up.
"But…"
"I promise I'll stay with you, Syl. No more Becca."
"Or Colleen or Dawn," I look at him.
"I'll stay with you forever, Syl."
Maybe now the voices in my head will stop. Maybe I can wear my hair back now…Maybe one day I can tell Krit I love him – not like a sister, but the way Zane loved Peta…
Maybe I will go out with Krit tonight.
"Smile, Syl, try and smile," I hear someone say. I roll over, and gaze into Krit's concerned eyes.
"Hmm?"
"I knew you weren't asleep, ha!" he teases me, but I can tell his heart isn't in it.
"What's wrong Krit?"
"You came home late again. Completely drunk," he's concerned, I can tell. He touches my face and I pull away and sit up in my bed, all in one movement.
"I don't mean to," I smile at him in a practiced way – if I smile Krit thinks I'm okay and maybe he'll make me breakfast.
"Stop pretending, Syl," Krit snaps, looking older that 21.
"You asked me to smile and I have," I argue, slipping out of bed. I hate summer in New York – too hot to wear any form of pyjamas; and my underwear is slippery with sweat. "I'm going to have a shower."
"Alright. What would you like for breakfast?" he asks, climbing out of my bed.
I glance at the clock. Almost 10:30. No wonder my room is so hot now.
"I don't mind," I beam at him.
"Hurry up and shower and then we can go out," he orders me.
The water is cold and that is a good thing; far too hot for a hot shower. I wash my hair and get out of the shower and get dressed in a tank top and denim shorts. My sneakers are on the television and I never pull my hair off my face.
Smile Syl. Smile properly.
Why smile? People smile when they are happy and I am not happy.
Get dressed up Syl, and I'll take you out.
Why get dressed up, Krit? So other men can look at me, wishing that they could…
Why go out? Going out means you want to talk to people and make friends. Why should an X5 make friends? Zack will make us move from NYC soon and we'll have to make new friends. Friends want to listen but I don't want to talk.
Anyway, you're my friend Krit. And Zack will never split you and me up 'cause I cannot be trusted to live alone.
Zack worries about me a lot, I know that.
Krit grins at me. "Sorry Syl, I'm not the whiz in the kitchen you are." He's made toast.
"I'll teach you one day, Krit,"
"Instead of going out?" Krit asks suddenly.
"You know I don't like nightclubs," I say in a whisper, that feeling of dread tightening in my chest.
"Zack told me last night- he rang when you were out," Krit squeezes my hand.
"I don't have any idea what you are talking about, Krit," I say firmly, pouring myself a cup of coffee, my hand shaking.
"You don't drink coffee, Syl," Krit's eyes look…defeated.
I frown. "I'm confused."
"Zack told me, Syl, about that guy – your foster father – who attacked you."
Oh yeah… You don't get it Krit, Zack? I met up with Zane once, after his girlfriend, Peta, died. He told me that the past is easier to forget when you drink alcohol...he told me that when I was twelve… long time to be drinking, Syl.
I know that. I don't drink all the time, though.
Only some days. Only after Krit's gone out with that girl from work or he forgets about me.
"How old were you Syl?" Krit asks.
"Promise me you won't go out with Her again?" I say, watching the honey on my toast begin to congeal.
"You mean Becca?" Krit looks confused. "I don't understand."
"I'm tired, can I go now?"
"Syl!" I feel him grab me around the waist and pull me into his lap. "Talk to me, kitten…you know I'll listen…" He's getting scared…
"I was almost ten I think and it was just after we escaped," I murmured into his shirt, burying my face into his shoulder. "Don't go out with Becca again, promise me?"
"Only if you promise to stop drinking so much?" Krit lifts my chin up.
"But…"
"I promise I'll stay with you, Syl. No more Becca."
"Or Colleen or Dawn," I look at him.
"I'll stay with you forever, Syl."
Maybe now the voices in my head will stop. Maybe I can wear my hair back now…Maybe one day I can tell Krit I love him – not like a sister, but the way Zane loved Peta…
Maybe I will go out with Krit tonight.