Addicted to Your Light

Like cheap pottery?

I had been tossing and turning all night, but I haven't got one moment of sleep. It's almost like that feeling as a child on Christmas Eve, when you can't sleep because of that feeling in your stomach that Santa is at your house, and Christmas is tomorrow... Except for its not Christmas, and the Santa Claus here's name is Harry, and he kidnapped me. I laugh quietly to myself at my sick analogy, but maybe it wasn't as quiet as I thought. A shuffling from behind the door erupts, before it creaks open. I quickly shut my eyes, and breathe slower, pretending to sleep.

"Eve" , he speaks through the door. When I don't answer, he pushes the door all the way open, and walks to the other side of the bed.

"Eve, I know your awake.", he taunts sounding like a child. I continue to fake sleep, until he sits down on the bed, and I instantly sit up in defence mode, ready to protect myself.

"Woah, calm down", he speaks, his eyes wide and a slight smirk on his face. So this was funny to him.

" I already told you I wasn't going to hurt you okay?", he reminds me, putting his finger to his chest, then pointing to the edge of the bed, his eyebrows raised. I nod my head in answer, and he sits on the opposite side.

I relax a little bit, sinking my sitting position down in to the head of the bed, but still keeping my hands on my lap ready to defend.

"What are you doing in here?", I ask, pulling bravery out from the bottom of me.

"It's my house isn't it?", he laughs.

I sigh, annoyed at this man. He notices my frustration, and decides to give me a serious answer.

"I don't know", he answers, his expression blank. He swings his legs to be on top of the bed, and adjusts his legs to cross over, leaning back on the head of the board. All I can hear now is the sound of my breathing, as I wait for one of us to fill the silence.

"What's your favourite colour?", Harry asks, putting his hands behind his head, in relaxation. I narrow my eyebrows. Why would he ask a random question like that?

"Just answer it", he sighs, closing his eyes.

"Yellow", I reply.

"Like pee?"

"No"

"Then like what"

"Like the yellow in the sun, and in the stars, and in lights", I justify.

"Mmm", he agrees.

"Yours?", I ask.

"Blue"

"Like cheap pottery?", I bravely retort.

"Not exactly"

"Then what exactly", I amuse the subject.

"Close to the colour of your eyes", he answers seriously, turning his head towards me for the first time.

"Oh", I answer, a little caught off guard. Though the lighting in the room is very dim, I can feel his eyes on me. I feel something fill up my stomach, airborne, moving around; butterflies. I silently curse at myself, for letting his words have an affect on me, get it together Eve. I turn away, to lay on my side facing the wall, my back to Harry. He doesn't speak, so I assume our conversation is over. I'll just stay like this, facing away from him till he leaves, then I can sleep I decide. My plan works, for about ten minutes, till I feel my eyes drooping, and my breathing slowing. I give up to sleep with out a fight, letting it take over.

"Good night Eve", I hear slipping in to my subconscious, as he pulls the covers up over my body.