Shadows

Cold under my hands, the carrot crunches under the knife.
I feel like that carrot. I feel like I am being cut apart.
I am not being cut apart to be eaten, I am being examined.
I feel like his eyes are knives, cutting me open and examining me.

“How are those potatoes going?” Viv calls over her shoulder.

She stands at the counter mixing. I envy her.
She stuck me at the kitchen table.
She stuck me at the kitchen table with Alex.

“They’re just about done.” Alex answers in his usual unique voice.

I don’t dare look up at him. I keep my hair in front of my face.
My hair is a curtain shielding me from Alex.
Shielding the glances he keeps sending me.

“How about the carrots?” Viv asks.

“Not too good.” Alex answers.

Why is he acting like this? Why is he acting like he belongs here.
He doesn’t belong here. He will never belong here.
He should stop being friendly.
He should start being who he really is.
He should tell me how fucked up I am again.
Vivian would kick him out of here so fast his head would spin.

I bite my lip and start to cut the carrot angrily. I don’t want him here.
Why don’t Viv and Dave understand that? Or do they just not care?
How long does it take to pay off a window anyway?

I felt it, I felt the knife. It slit open my finger with a sting.
I dropped the knife, the wound started to throb as blood rushed out.

“Oh shit, are you okay?” Alex rushed standing to look at my bleeding finger.

I pulled my finger out of view and looked up, accidently meeting his eyes.
He keeps his shallow brown eyes locked onto my blue ones.
I snap my head in the toward the hallway.
The hallway is an escape, like secret passage way.
A not so secret passage way.

I enclose myself in the same bathroom I was in when I wished I could blend in with the wall.
My longing to blend into the wall is even greater now.
I run my finger under cold water.
The blood overreacted, the cut is tiny.

&&

I imagine my life outside, my eyes are closed and the sun tickles my skin.
In the kitchen, in front of the window I am imagining myself.
I am pushing a stroller, with a baby.
My nephew. My niece. My son. My daughter.
It doesn’t matter who the baby is because I am happy.

The back door bangs open, I open my eyes.
I let my hair shield my face as I stare at my bare feet.
I do this when I wait for Alex to pass.
I do not want to look at his eyes again.
I know I will if I don’t stop myself.

“What are you doing?” Alex asks rudely, my back facing him.

I shrug my shoulders and continue to look at my feet, my bare feet.
My whole body feels bare when he’s around.
I feel like he can see right through me.
I feel like Alex can see right through me.

I am afraid of Alex still, after a month of him in my house.
After a month of the boy, in my haven. I still fear him.
I don’t like the why he makes me feel.
My heart beat quickens, my breathe gets caught in my throat.
As soon as he walks away, I feel better.
He puts me on edge. I have a bad feeling about him.

“It’s rude, ya know. Not answer someone and to completely ignore them.”

Oh this boy. This boys makes me so mad. I wish I was able to scream at him.
I wish I was able to give him a piece of my mind verbally.
I wish I could use sarcasm, people rarely pick up on written sarcasm.
I turn to face him, attempt as best as I could to show him his place.
I lift my head, only enough to see the edge of his tattoo peeking out from under his tank top.
That’s all it takes for me to back down, to scurry out of the kitchen.
I run like a mouse from a cat, like a cat from a dog.
I run like a dog from the dog catcher, like a dog catcher from a bear.

I am, and always will be, a coward.
I am, and always will be, Carson.