Eighty-Two

Sally's POV

"You're not going to stab me, are you?" Darius joked, leaning against the living room frame.

I shot him the most deadly glare I could muster before throwing one of the cushions at him, "I will if you don't stop talking." And collapsed on the sofa, sighing.

After what happened yesterday, everyone was too scared to approach and talk to me. So left me alone with my thoughts in the living room since breakfast ended in an awkward silence.

Darius plopped down in the space next to me, hugging the pillow I threw earlier. “A penny for your thoughts?”

"Even if you give me a million, I still won't share with you," I spoke emotionlessly.

He sucked hard through his teeth. "Grim,"

I sighed in defeat. "I'm sorry... I just..."

"Stress?"

I shook my head.

"Paranoia?"

I shook my head again.

"Bored?" And Darius kept adding whatever emotions I was feeling but couldn't express.

"No, no, no, no!" I gasped with a lot of frustration in my voice. "I'm not stressed, paranoid, depressed, or whatever