“Mik, I am trying my best to be nice, but I swear, if you say another word or so much as move an inch, I will tear you apart!” My voice shook as I spoke, and I held my pencil as if I would stab him with it. Mik laughed a little, like he always did, probably thinking I was joking. My face turned hot with anger and the pencil snapped. Mik’s laughter stopped in an instant.
The air seemed to be thicker than pudding. There were a few moments of silence as I glared at him, the two halves of the pencil digging into my palm, and he stared right back, wide eyed. Perhaps he was thinking of all the times that I had been angry with him and he had passed it off for a well-played joke. Or, more likely, he was completely and utterly surprised and confused at my apparently sudden anger. No doubt he was the only one who didn’t see it coming.
Mik sighed dramatically, rolled his eyes a little, and took a single step closer to me. Immediately, the alarm bells went off in my brain. Too close, too close, too close. I didn’t like to be touched. The blood in my arms and hands felt as if they were burning my insides. The pressure was too much and he was too close. I screamed through my teeth, threw the broken pencil pieces at him, and stormed out of the room. I was done with all this. I was done with Mik, and trying not to hurt something, and my reluctancy to climb over the walls in my way for fear of hurting their feelings. I was done.
And good riddance.
My Name Is Naught 