Mirror

VI

***
INTERROGATION

    DON'T SAY ANYTHING.

    Nothing? Isn't that risky too?

    A wave of nausea crept over my body like a bad cold. Inside my chest, my heart pounded its way up my head with a sharp, pulsating pain. The room grew small. I watched the floors twirl again, and the walls fold in on me as if they were suddenly made of paper. Thought after thought shouted in my head out of panic and urgency to run, fight and freeze all at once.
    I'm fucked.

    Tell him you're tired.

    With widened eyes, lips pulled tightly and hands twitching I looked at him. It was clear he wasn't in any mood for jokes from the way his eyebrows were tightly knitted. I could brush it off like how I did sometimes, but I knew that look. And the less trouble I have, the better.

    "Okay." I cleared my throat of stickiness.

    "Your teacher called me," He started.

    Physically, I felt the color drain from my face. I wiped at my cheek like it was going to stop my color from washing off.

    He leaned back in his seat. "Your stats teacher. She told me you left class the other day.

    I shrugged. "Yeah. What about it?"

    He stared at me for a minute, sighed, then looked at his computer. After a few clicks and scrolls later, he reads off his screen. "She said you left and, I quote, "didn't come back for the rest of the day"."

    Well shit. He got you there. I'd like to see how well you play your cards with this one, Leila, snickered the voice beside my ear.

    This time, my hands tore at any skin near my fingernails. I gnawed at my bottom lip, staring at the floor. If I were staring at all.

    "What was that about?" he questioned.

    My brows furrowed. I could be honest.

    Don't. God, Leila, don't be a fucking idiot.

    My own panic started to brush onto Draven. All of their thoughts mushed together in a violent crash that caused chills to go through my spine. No—my subconscious thoughts. They're only thoughts in the back of my head.

    I could tell Mr. Cillian about the loose screws in my head. I could say, right now, my screwed-up sleep schedule was due to a voice haunting me in the dark. Or the time gaps growing by the day. Or even the holes I feel in my body from the burn of Draven's eyes, day and night all around. Mr. Cillian could be the first to know. He'd understand. He's acted like he always has.

    Not in the slightest. Leila, respectfully, I need you to stop being delusional and think rationally here. He's not here to help. He's here to get a paycheck.

    I took a deep breath in. "I was tired. I haven't really been sleeping well."

    It wasn't exactly a lie, but it wasn't the truth either. My gaze flickered to his desk.

    He hummed in understanding. "How come?"

    "Uh..." I drifted off.