"Then admit I'm right."
"Why is it so important to you that people give you recognition?!" He asked, louder than needed.
Zadia paused and gulped at the question. She didn't know what to say. She liked when people gave her recognition because truth be told she didn't receive it much as a child from her parents. At home, whatever she did, it was like she was supposed to do it or know it and when she was at school... it was the total opposite. Her teachers, coaches, and even peers would give her recognition for the littlest of things, and from there on it became something she obsessed about sometimes. "It's not." She lied.
"So why do you care if I say you're right?"
Zadia's lips pursed. "I don't care." She corrected him.
"You're a bad liar."
She placed her hands on her hips. "I can say the same about you, with you're fucking, 'I'm not afraid of anything,' bullshit."
They made it to her building exit and opened the door. This time Zadia purposely slammed it so it could hit Roman, but he caught it quickly. "Childish." He muttered.
"But when you did it, it was perfectly fine." She bit back. Even though Roman was getting on the last of her nerves, she still found the courage to smile as she made it in front of her old door. Twisting the doorknob, she pushed it opened and stepped in. Her smile disappeared when she saw the yellow police tape around the place, the little furniture she had thrown all around. "Fucking hell." She grumbled, picking up the book that was gifted to her years ago.
She went around picking up the things she needed, ignoring the mess the best she could.
Roman stayed quiet, his wet clothes clinging onto his skin. He walked around the living room, analyzing the place she once called home. Her apartment lacked space and chairs and other things that you usually see in an apartment, but he could see why she loved it so much. She made it hers, adding cheap carpet and bean bags to give the place some aesthetic look, her book and pen collection adding some color. "Why do you have a pen collection?" He asked out loud. He bit the inside of his cheeks, shocked that he asked.
When Zadia wasn't looking, he took two of the metallic pens and stuffed them into his pocket.
He liked the way they looked.
"Started collecting them when I couldn't find the courage to paint." She answered, stacking her paintings on top of each other. She was grateful that her paintings of all things were still here, whoever looted her apartment took the majority of her books and clothes, silverware too. "Watch these real quick. I'm gonna get the money."
Roman nodded as she went into her old bedroom and he took that as his chance to look at the infamous paintings she was risking her freedom for. "Hum." He hummed, his eyes going over them. She was a good painter... an excellent one matter of fact. He'd never seen paintings like these, colors so well blended that they became new colors that were yet to be named.
"Got it." She beamed, carrying a duffel bag out the room. "It's surprising still here even though they took everything in my room, pillows included." She had hidden it in a hole that was in the wall of her closet. The hole was there from before she moved in, no one but her knew it was there. She walked towards Roman and put some of the books she found into the duffel bag before zipping it up. "I'm all set."
ChApTeR 8 Pt. 2
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