𝐆𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐬 𝐇𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞 [𝟏𝟖+] ✔

23

I'm living my worst nightmare.

Not only am I stuck with Eric for God knows how long, but he has to be with me at all times. Meaning, when I go to work, he comes. When I go out for a walk with Mum or Gareth, he comes. When I venture ten houses up to my parents' manor, he comes.

He always comes.

We've barely spoken the past four days. A few words here and there about food, sleeping arrangements, and the dogs. However, it does seem that he's in a mood with me, dodging me, hardly even giving me eye contact.

I mean, I didn't do anything wrong.

Walking Skye and Diesel is a little less than painful, I don't need to attempt to have a conversation with him. I just hold the leash, enjoy the scenery of Winter while snow falls on and around the dome.

He tells Gareth to fuck off a lot.

He talks to Ainsley a lot.

He avoids me in the house a lot.

However, I don't mind the last one. I can lie on the couch in his bedroom and read a book, spooning Skye while Diesel is downstairs with Eric. He'll pop in with a bowl of food and a glass of water, tells me I better eat before leaving me be.

Then the nights come, and I can never seem to sleep knowing he's so close yet so far. Staring at the ceiling for hours, I'd contemplate numerous times if I should walk downstairs and initiate some sort of conversation to break the awkwardness between us. But I always give up on the idea and fall asleep, usually waking up to the dogs licking my face.

I can't seem to bring myself to use the shower, and I'm sure I can only have so many sink washes before it becomes unhygienic. I tried this morning; I stood in the doorway, staring at the bathroom, took a few steps in and recoiled instantly.

Stupid, isn't it? To be so afraid to walk into a room, to not be able to stand under running water in fear of history repeating itself and no one to save me?

Gareth is aware of my anxiety, I blurted it mid conversation, and ever since he tries to talk me into speaking to someone about it, or my parents, at least. But, in all honesty, telling someone I'm scared of a shower cubicle seems like the most ridiculous thing ever compared to all the other issues people are facing.

I had this type of fear before, back when I was in school. A girl hated me, bullied me so much that I was scared to go to classes, that I'd sneak to the gym room to hide until the bell rang. I felt anxiety when I woke in the morning, just knowing that I had to face her and her snide comments about my looks.

I mean, it wasn't a case of life or death compared to the shower incident, but the feeling of wanting to hide away is definitely the same.

It'll take time, I get that. But being in the now is driving me insane.

Walking downstairs, I stay as quiet as possible since Eric is working, always sitting at the table, his head buried in paperwork. If it isn't live holographic calls that consist of him yelling at his recruits, it's online training with them. Both seem to piss him off enough to open a bottle of beer and ignore me when I'd sit on the couch beside him.

The sleeves of his shirt are rolled up, hair a mess from the number of times he's run his hands through it. I can tell from how loose his collar is that he's got a few buttons unfastened, revealing an inked chest.

He doesn't look up as I open the fridge and pour myself a drink, or when I grab a packet of crisps, and he stays completely silent when I tell him that Gareth offered to walk me to work tomorrow morning.