Behind the Mask - Book One [Editing/Re-writing]

(2) Gimme Gimme Never Gets

Dedicated to tickledpink for helping me with casts for the story :)

Chapter Two

 Gimme Gimme Never Gets

A huge glass of water is placed in front of me and I stare at it like it has all the keys to life. My lips crack into a smile and I gush while I grab it from the ground, my sweaty palms meeting heaven as they wrap themselves around the glass, the cool perspiration drops feeling amazing against my skin. I down the glass in about five seconds.

I hold it out to, what’s his name—Kent—and say in all seriousness, “More.” 

He looks at me like I'm insane, probably questioning whether I really had just demanded, yes demanded, for more water. His expression becomes smug and he crosses his arms while leaning against the box that holds Stayton’s shoes while I continue to lean against whosever behind me. I know for sure that it’s not Stayton because he left the room when I started acting normal again which brings me to a disturbing question.

What just happened to me? It’s not like I was hungry, well; yes I was, but that’s beside the point. Last time I checked, when someone hasn’t eaten in three days they just have intense stomach pains, not seeing colours and stars everywhere. No, it had to be something else. But what? I simply have no answers, and that scares me. 

I glance over to see Kent sitting beside me still and I jiggle my water glass and cluck my tongue, “Did you think I was kidding?” I shoo him away with my free hand while still jiggling the glass, “come on. Go get me more.”

A groan escapes his lips and he stands but just stares down at me, looming with a dark expression on his face.

I sigh and shake my head, men, never listen to anything a woman says. Who cares that I'm smaller than him! Like seriously, I could kick his butt any day. Well, maybe not any day; maybe a day he is bedridden or if he has a bum ankle. Okay, maybe I couldn’t beat him even if he had a bum ankle but still. A woman needs to assert her independence! It’s about time we start standing up to men and throwing rocks at their heads . . . wow, okay, where’d the rocks come from?

But anyways, my point is still valid. Maybe we could hit them with rakes. . . 

Okay, enough of that. You’re not a violent person Bethany—

Aren’t you? My inner voice swirls around me like fog and I ignore it, I’ve always hated fog. It’s just so scary, what happens if you get lost and fall off a cliff or something? Yeah, that’s right, fog can go die in a hole. Ha-ha, I’d love to see that, maybe I could put it in a jar. 

I look over at Kent and smile; I just got a great idea, “Go on! Be a good little boy and get more water for your dear prisoner.” I say in my sweetest voice and also bat my eyelashes in the process. If you can’t get inside a guy’s head with your words then use your pretty looks. Yeah, guys are just shallow pigs like that. Most, okay, well some.

I’m knocked out of my incoherent babbling and suck in a breath as Kent gives me the dirtiest look ever. I thought he was the nice one! 

I watch as he walks away and crane my head to the side to see who is behind me. Yep, I was right, another dude. And no, not the wimp that was scared of the rat—okay, that was kind of mean—the other guy; the guy that seems to stay out of everything and he looks like he’s my age. Eighteen, maybe he’s a year older. I can’t quite tell, he is cute though, not amazingly handsome like Kent and Stayton but still cute. Like little boy cute—I better not be talking out loud here or else this guys going to kill me. 

Anyways, he has puffy dark brown hair; almost like an afro but not as much and it’s in curls, his eyes are coal grey and kind of Asian looking, slanting a bit at the outside edges—don’t get me wrong, its freaking adorable—and he’s just got a kind of little kid look to him.