597 Words

Okay... one more...

I chuck the book at the window and it bounces off again. Dammit. I can't get out of here. I just want to walk around the Domain, but I guess I'll have to teleport away. Somehow without the Sheikah slate, since the damn thing decided not to work. I swear Sidon must've broken it or something.

I sigh heavily and flop on the huge mattress, sinking into it. I hate this with my whole heart and soul, with my whole body and being, with my all. I despise it. I can't do anything, and I'm just biding my time being useless in here.

I might as well just die. I'd have the same amount of boredom in hell.

I roll off the bed and lay on the floor, opening my dumb book and continuing to read. I can't move it, so I just leave it in my corner. Somehow it always ends up back on the shelf, though, and I have a suspicion Sidon's just doing it to piss me off.

Speak of the devil, and he shall appear. The door unlocks and I hear Sidon walk in. "Hello, dear," he says happily, locking the door behind him. Locking me inside this fucking cell.

When I don't reply, he walks over and sits next to me. "Three days you've given me the cold shoulder. Is that enough? Or are you just not going to speak? I can read your face, you know." He trails a finger down my cheek and I squirm a little. "See? I told you."

There are two kinds of anger, wet and dry. Dry anger is when I'm just done, just keep a deadpan look on my face as I try to ignore the problem, or tackle it logically. Wet anger, on the other hand, is screaming and crying and violent—one I don't like to dabble in much. I've chosen dry anger, recently.

Just to spite him, I open my mouth and speak. "I honestly hate you."

"Yes, I get the point." He sighs. "Gods, you're bleeding." I let the blood, warm and wet, seep out my mouth and down my face. I keep a scowl on the whole time. Sidon gets up and I hear him wet a cloth, quickly and deftly returning. "Damn you."

I turn my face away from his touch, looking down.

"We both know how this is going to end." He says.

"I think we have different outcomes in mind," I reply, turning my whole body away.

"You have no idea what measures I'll take to make sure you don't kill yourself with this stupidity. You need time to heal. Speaking is only going to make it worse. Come here." He loops his arms around my waist and pulls me into his lap, and I know I'm too weak to struggle. I sigh. I hate him, especially since he's right.

I lean back into his chest before I know what I'm doing.

"You're so touch-starved." he mumbles, pulling me closer and burying his face in my hair. "I want you to know that I love you, even if you don't love me."

"I know."