Motel 69

He hadn't talked to her for a week. A full seven days. She was curious at first, but figured he would return to his obnoxious, cryptic antics soon enough.

He didn't.

"What crawled up your ass, princess?" she asked on the ninth day. Five minutes into their lunch period (for they had been sitting together for weeks, even the past week of awkward quietness) Cooper had that angry, pitiful look on his face. He had been wearing it for the past few days. His dark eyes met hers as he finally opened his mouth to speak.

"I don't want you to talk to me anymore," his voice, usually so deep and scratchy, was nothing but a cold monotone. She didn't show it, but Marilyn felt a small sting of pain. But he was kidding again, surely. It was just one of his sick ideas of a joke. "We are not friends. We're nothing. I actually regret talking to you when you were new here."

Now Marilyn arched an eyebrow. Who was he to talk to her like that? "If you think-"

But he cut her off. "Let me finish. You're nothing more than a game for me. I was just waiting for you to put out, and you finally did. So I'm done with you. You're nothing more than a used tissue to me." That being said, Cooper stood up from their table and exited the cafeteria. In their once private little corner table, no one bothered them. But now Marilyn truly felt the negative affects of being all alone. It was like screaming as loud as you can, but no one hears a thing.