Whisper

"Hey, room mate." Bryce says as I open the door. I can feel all the color leave my face. I'm literally horrified that this creature has to live in my room. I roll my eyes at him. The worst part is, dad took Peter to his soccer game, so it's just me and him. I decided to sit down on the couch and watch him struggle bringing all the heavy boxes in. He's wearing a tank, and he has muscles. Which I won't deny is super attractive, but his personality ruins it.

"Well, are you gonna help me get these boxes in?" He asked me. Being the nice person that I am, I went outside to help get the boxes in. I walk inside to find an embarrassed Bryce on the floor. He tripped. I walk over to him and put out my hand.

"Thanks.." He says so quietly it almost isn't audible.

"Oh, you thought I was going to help you up? Well, I wasn't, So here's another box." I say. I didn't feel any remorse for letting him sit there on his ass.

"Bitch." He says. I don't even care, I'm too busy laughing. By the time he's done bringing stuff in it's six o'clock. I hear Peter and dad walk in, and as usual they go straight to their rooms. I head up to mine, despite the fact that I have to share it with that asshat. I see him sitting on my bed with his laptop.

"I hope you don't think you're sleeping in my bed." I say. He laughs.

"Oh, trust me, I'm not. I heard herpes spreads easily, I wouldn't want to get infected." He says. I don't know if I want to punch myself in the face or him in the face. He gets off my bed and goes to his bags. He pulls out an inflatable mattress and hooks it up to a pump.

"This is where I'm sleeping, more comfortable and cozy than your sorry excuse for a bed." He says. Is this really happening? Maybe I'm just having a terrible never ending nightmare.

"Do you always have to be so mean to me?" I ask him. He looks down.

"If it helps, I really like your pajamas." He says. I smile.

"Really?" I ask, smiling.

"Yes, my five year old niece was wearing them the other day. It was the cutest thing." He says, sarcastically. The bit of hope that just filled my body was taken away. He's a monster.

"Try to not bother me while I'm sleeping. Notice I said try, because doing anything all the way is too hard for you." He says. What a smart ass. I just smirk and turn the light off before hopping into bed. I wake up to the sound of what seems like someone going through drawers. I turn over and see Bryce standing there. His shirt was off. He was skinny, and not as pale as I though he was. He also has nice hair when he wakes up in the morning. But any nice thought I had about him soon vanished when I saw what he was holding in his hand. A small picture. I know that picture. I keep in a special spot.

"Is this you?" He asks, laughing. I feel myself getting angry. The more he laughed, the more I wanted to break his jaw. He keeps mocking me repeatedly, and as hard as I try to keep from blowing up, I can't.

"That was my mother you inconsiderate fuck. If you had any ounce of respect or kindness in your scrawny body, you'd know to stay out of people's stuff, asshole." I say, angrily. He pauses for a moment, I almost think he's going to apologize, but I was wrong.

"Why are you hiding it? Are you scared your mom will find out you keep photos of her in your drawer?" He continues laughing.

"My mom is dead. She died. She will never find out." I say. His face turns pale and for a second I see the regret in his face.

"Oh..my God. I'm sorry, I didn't know." He says quietly.

"I know you didn't know. I would appreciate it if you wouldn't look through my things." I say. He nods his head before walking downstairs.