Pallid

Celeste glares at me over her breakfast the next morning, chewing the bread slowly.

"I did it for you," I try to offer, but she's not having that. Celeste looks at the television, annoyed. She picks up her glass of water and lets it slip out of her hand and shatter noisily on the floor.

She has a penchant for breaking dishes.

Mostly glasses.

"I did that for you," she mocks, taking another bite of her bread. When she's done, she lets the plate fall on the floor. It clatters, but doesn't break. She flops back on the bed, jabbing a cigarette in her mouth. She lights it and throws the lighter at my back sullenly. It doesn't hurt, not really because she has the upper body strength of a twelve year old, but I'm upset because she's upset. Even though she shouldn't be, because it was the truth and I didn't know what else she wanted me to say to her. I mean, was I supposed to be excited or something that this creep was doing all these thigns with her (or rather, to her?

What did she want from me?

"Are you going to sulk all day?" I turn around and she blows a smoke ring into my face, frowning. "Okay, fine. Be like that." I step around the glass on the floor carefully (if she wants to act like she's five, fine, but I'm not cleaning up after her) and walk to the closet, pull some clothes from it, and toss them on the bed. She puts her cigarette out on my black jeans, staring at me blankly. "What the hell, Celeste?!"

"But I did that for you too!" she exclaims, feigning innocence as I snatch my clothes off the bed. "What's the matter?"

I spend my shower sulking and brooding, mostly because despite the fact that Ulysses supposedly wants nothing at all to do with her (according to her anyway) she's still pining after him and upset. I don't know why, because he didn't love her, he doesn't love her, and he won't love her, ever. He told me that himself.

My thoughts go in a circle for the rest of my shower, and I stay under the spray until the water gets too cold to stand. I dress quickly, digging my finger through the freshly burned hole in my jeans. They weren't my favourites but still.

She's pretty vicious when she wants to be.

I was excited because I was going down to the gallery, but having Celeste be mad at me casts a damper over my whole day.

"I'll be back late," I say, slipping into a coat because it's raining--again--outside.

"I don't care."

"I love you." She laughs and scoffs, rolling over, propping herself up on her elbows.

"Hate you too," she coos with a small smile, waving. "Have fun on your way to hell."