Ellie and I have not spoken about the kiss since it happened. I'd like to pretend it never happened, and for a few moments of the day, I would nearly convince myself it didn't.

And then I look at him, and all my guilt, and secret wanting to do it again comes flooding back.

So far, I have been trying to tell myself that he hasn't been acting different around me,but he has.

Oh, he so has.

He looks at me oddly, and I want to ask him why, and I want to ask him if he wants to kiss again, but I won't ever ask him the latter. I won't let him kiss me again, and yet I still feel ashamed that I want him to.

God, I'm a mess.

I slump my back against the wall, and fall onto the floor until my knees are up to my chest and my arms are wrapped around them. Ellie is downstairs, and I find myself waiting every day for him to come up not to acknowledge me, but so I can attempt to ask him what the hell it is that he does down there.

His answers are vague. His answers are simple.

"I'm doing research." He says. I ask him what kind, and he does that same annoying shrug he always does when he doesn't want to answer me. Sometimes I wonder what the point of him is, why my father decided to make such an irritating, ambiguous boy for a friend of mine.

I'd have done just fine with a dog.

I ran my hand through my hair, feeling a bit of dried paint peel off a few loose strands as I do so. I realized as I scratched some dried paint off my fingers with my nails, that if I keep resorting to such stressful tendencies, I'll end up going mad.

My days consist of painting, thinking of Ellie, reading, thinking of Ellie, wasting my time on the internet, thinking of Ellie, and painting some more. Of all the things I do, Ellie is the one thing that I can't stop thinking about.

He's plaguing my goddamn mind.

I find myself standing up, my feet begin to walk towards the basement door, and before I know it I'm already halfway down the wooden stairs.

I see him, Ellie, standing over a table, looking down at something until he notices I'm here.

He stares at me with a look of pure confusion. He's confused on why I am down here. He's confused on why I'm in my own basement.

"I want to know why you are always down here." I tell him for what probably is the millionth time.

I promise myself is he says 'research' one more time I'll kill him and his stupid secrets.

His eyes are fixed on me, and when he doesn't reply right away, I step closer. As if he had to mentally force himself to give in and tell me, he slowly stepped aside, and allowed me to see what it was that he was looking at on the table.

My heart stops.

In a large box, there are two rats, in a smaller box there are squirming maggots, and another box there, to my horror, is a bird.

He caught a bird.

"What the hell?" I breathed, staring at the animals and cringing at the bugs. "Why do you have these in boxes, and where did you manage to get a bird?"

"I'm testing a theory." He stated simply, and I shook my head. That's not going to cut it, not this time.

"Explain."

He sighed, and for the first time I can see clear irritation painted on his face. He's annoyed with me. My heart suddenly feels heavy but I pretend it doesn't.

"My research is to figure out why I am so," He doesn't finish his sentence as he looks at his arms, the black liquid in his veins, that is now slightly grey from his calmness, stare back at him. "I introduced it to them." He pointed to the animals, "I tried to intoxicate them."

I studied the animals, but something didn't seem right, "They look normal." If what he's saying is true, then they should have the same black eyes as he has. The same black nails.

The same tar-like substance as blood.

"Yes."

"Why?"

"I do not know."

"How did you do it, infect them, I mean." I noticed he winced as I said the word 'infect' but I couldn't understand why. How strange it is that he is only now talking about the black substance in his body. He would never speak about it to me, as if he tried to ignore it.

I begin to wonder if there's a reason it's suddenly bothering him now, or if it's always bothered him.

Ellie grabbed a syringe from the counter, and handed it to me, "I took some from my arm."

He injected them, literally.

I stare at him, "Ellie, what are you planning to find by doing this? There really isn't any reason why you should hurt these animals."

"They aren't hurt." He said quickly, "I knew they would not be."

My eyes narrowed, "And how exactly did you know they wouldn't get hurt?"

He blinked, "Ripley," He said, "I'm not doing this to learn more about what it is."

I waited for him to continue.

"I'm doing this to confirm a theory."

Intrigued, I asked, "And that theory is?"

"This," he pointed to one of his veins, "is not transmittable, not from myself."

I find myself wanting to laugh, but also wanting to cry in hysteria. I do neither. "You're lying."

"I'm not." He suddenly looks at me so intently, and I forget how to breathe. "I confirmed it, your father's death could not have been by me. It is not possible." I realize I liked it better when he said minimal words. These complete sentences are disgusting. I don't want to hear him talk, not ever again.

The room felt cold, I couldn't feel my body, "You didn't confirm anything! Animals aren't confirmation, Ellie, it might be different for humans-" I suddenly stopped. Realization swept over me, along with humiliation, and that familiar sense of guilt. It hurt to speak up, to say the words I was about to say because it was painfully uneasy, "You were testing on me. The kiss. You were testing me."

He was silent.

"Oh my God."

"Ripley-"

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"No, you're mistaken."

He attempts to reach for me, but I step away from him, "I can't believe you would do something like that."

He looked taken back, "Ripley that is not correct, I did not think about it then." but I held my hand up, silencing him.

"Whatever, play creepy scientist alone down here, I don't care."

His eyes widened, as I turn to leave. He quickly reaches over and grabs my arm, "No, please let me explain, I still cannot control this."

"Control what?" I snap at him, and immediately regret it when he recoils back, "What is it, Ellie? What the fuck is in your body?"

"I-" He just stares at me, "I don't know."

I force myself to stay calm, "Fine." I say, "Fine, you stay down here, I'm going out." I need air, I need to be far away from him, not because I'm angry at him, but because he's right.

I kissed him not thinking about the consequences. I should know better, but I didn't even consider it.

"Ripley-" He calls after me, but I leave up the stairs. I grabbed the keys in the glass bowl, my sweater, and I hopped into my car. All this time I've spent with Ellie, I've forgotten to be cautious. We still don't know what it is living inside of him, and what it can do. I can't risk infecting myself with it.

I can't screw up like that again.