Because we had no couch in the room, there was no escape. Elena was lying right beside me on the bed.
We were both facing away from each other, backs turned like two strangers sharing a raft in a storm. Even though there was a thick, decorative pillow placed between us as a makeshift border, the tension in the air was still at its peak.
Surprisingly, it had been Elena herself who placed the pillow between us the moment we lay down. And here I thought she was eager to claim me—to bridge every gap until there was nothing left.
Well, I'm relieved. It's better this way; as long as there is physical distance, I can pretend this isn't a total free-fall into insanity.
I was finally finding a sliver of peace, the rhythmic ticking of the wall clock acting as a tether to reality. But in contrast to my relief, Elena's emotions were fluctuating wildly. Through strange, I could almost feel her internal monologue screaming.
