The next few days were spent with little conversation. I still didn't want to talk to this man, and he still didn't want to leave me alone. It was like every single time I did something he would be there, making a comment or asking me questions.

Don't get me wrong, the attention wasn't all bad. After all, he did buy me new clothes, which meant I no longer had to sit around in the old, dirty, torn ones I had been wearing for quite a while now. He even let me pick them out, and, considering that this area of town only had one small boutique, they weren't exactly cheap.

On top of that, I was much healthier than I had been on the night I first got here. I was eating properly, and he seemed to be trying very hard to get me to like him, as he would always make an effort with the food. Though it was quite obvious he wasn't very skilled with cooking.

He was making an effort in other areas, too. He took me to get my hair cut, which, although it didn't bother me that much, really needed to be done, and he kept buying me extra little things. It was awkward, because I was still trying to be stubborn and not talk to him, which meant I couldn't refuse any of his gifts or make any comments.

I think he knew what I was doing, and this was all a ploy to get me to talk to him.

The first time I actually spoke was a mistake, and I wasn't paying attention. He caught me off-guard while I was sitting in the living room watching TV. We didn't get to watch TV very often at the orphanage, so it was a real luxury, despite how small it was.

Anyway, I was engrossed in a news story about this supposedly psychic woman who thought she could predict what the weather was going to be like next month or something, when he happened to walk into the house.

"Hey there, sport. You feeling alright today?"

This had become a regular question, and usually, like with his other questions, I chose not to answer it, but this time my brain seemed to have other ideas.

"Yeah."

It had been so long since I had actually spoken that the sound of my own voice came as a shock to me, and I had to pause and think about it for a while before I decided that I was the one who had actually said that.

He seemed just as shocked as I was, and before I knew it he was once again perched on the table in front of me, blocking my view of the television.

"So, are you finally deciding to speak to me?"

He looked happy.

I decided that after speaking once, I could no longer use silence to protect myself, and that the game was pretty much over. I had to talk to him now.

"...I guess so."

His face lit up at this simple three word answer, and he was watching me with what looked almost like excitement.

"Alright. Good. Can I get your name now? We've been living together for about a week now and we still don't even know each other's names. Don't you think that's weird?"

I shrugged a little, trying to act uninterested, but he saw through it instantly, holding out his hand towards me and smiling.

"I'm Vashyron. It's nice to finally meet you properly," he chuckled, waiting for me to shake his hand. Which I did, reluctantly.

"...Zephyr."

"Zephyr. So how old are you? You've gotta be, like, sixteen, right?"

"Fifteen."

He seemed to find this amusing.

"So is that all I'm getting, now? One word answers?"

I opened my mouth to reply, before he cut me off by laughing.

"I'm kidding. I'm just happy that you're talking to me at all."

I continued to sit there and stare at him blankly. It felt so strange to have a normal, friendly conversation with this man after what happened. He tried to kill me, and if I had had the chance, I would have killed him.

Yet, here he was, sitting close in front of me, chatting away like we were simply old friends. I didn't feel uncomfortable, either, like I usually did when I was talking to adults. Probably because they were usually talking about me rather than to me or telling me how worthless I was and how ashamed my parents would be if they were alive.

This man, Vashyron, was doing neither of those things. He was talking to me like I was a regular human being, like we were friends, like he actually cared about my opinion. He wasn't condescending or critical or patronising, he was just...nice.

"So, you have anything else to add or should I try again tomorrow?" he chuckled, breaking me out of my daydream.

I simply shrugged, hoping that he was just going to let me get back to staring blankly at the TV. Nice or not, I still didn't like talking to people if I didn't have to. It's what normal teenagers do, right?

He laughed again, the sound of which I was quickly becoming used to. He seemed to find pretty much everything amusing in some way or another. It wasn't necessarily a bad thing. It meant that the atmosphere in the house was always relaxed, and I liked that. No arguing, nobody saying mean things about someone else, no shouting, nobody trying to force me to do anything I didn't want to do. I guess I kind of liked it here.

He stood up and began making his way towards the kitchen, probably to prepare tonight's meal, whistling as he went, and I found myself watching him instead of going back to the TV.

Anything else to add?

I guess I should make more of an effort to talk to him; especially after all he's done for me.

"...Your cooking kinda sucks."

He paused in the kitchen doorway without turning around, and I immediately regretted the words that came out of my mouth. I watched him silently for another minute or so, before he laughed, even more loudly than usual, continuing into the kitchen.

"Just for that comment, I'm gonna make it extra horrible tonight!" he shouted from inside the kitchen, and I heard the familiar noise of the fridge opening, which was nearly always accompanied by the sound of glass bottles rattling together. He liked alcohol, a lot, but he never let me drink any. It was kind of a good thing, though. At least I knew he was somewhat responsible.

I relaxed back against the couch, looking back at the television screen, which was now showing an advertisement for the boutique I mentioned before, and I couldn't help feeling at ease. It almost felt...normal. My life was never normal. It was far from it. Yet, this man had suddenly appeared in my life and changed everything overnight.

I was supposed to die, but instead I was sitting comfortably, watching TV and having dinner cooked for me.

Maybe it was fate that I was here. That tragic event in my life had led to this, and this was good.

I could get used to this.