Going 78 Miles Per Hour | ✓

05 | Fire On Fire

I can't swear in front of children.

"It's a house," I offer, holding out my hand to demonstrate the home. "It's four walls, a door and a couple of windows. Nothing special about it."

My voice was laced with sharpness, not allowing them to entertain the idea that I could be happy here. That I could fit in. I may have been the last one to settle in the seat—the last seat available—and we could've looked like a picture-perfect big family, but that's not the case for me.

Despite this, Claudia merely smiles. I can't quite tell if she's trying to force it upon herself—probably is—but she doesn't look hurt by my words. "Okay." She nods, "Um, Harlow," she glances around the table, checking to see if she got the name right, "where are you from?"

I clutch the fork in my hands. "Here." I answer simply, glancing down at the plate of spaghetti Sebastian made. I took a couple of bites and it's good, but I would never admit it to his face.

"That's, um, that's vague, but okay," Claudia said, nodding to herself. I check to see if she's going to stop this, but she only proceeded. "How long have you been in the system?"

I slam the fork to the plate, causing a loud clank to acknowledge the room. I look straight into Claudia's eyes. "Why does it matter?"

Claudia looks taken back, and so did Presley, who sits right beside her and in front of me. I stare at her in a challenge that told her to back down, and back down now. I don't want to tell her anything about myself. It's already bad enough that Nini and Sebastian have that privilege of going through my files—but these people?

Fuck no.

Yet, in an (irritating) surprise, Claudia stood her ground. She straightens up her back, her gaze facing me with fire. She isn't afraid. "I'm not trying to be a bitch—excuse my language—and I was merely asking a question. It was just small talk."

"I don't want small talk," I grit my teeth, my gaze penetrating Claudia. I don't back down. "I just want to eat in silence, and leave this place. Is that too much to ask?"

"That's it?" Claudia asks, a brow cocked in her direction. I don't understand her question. She elaborates. "That's all you look for in life? To live in silence and leave? Where? Where are you going? What are you doing afterwards? What are your dreams?"

I clench down my jaw, but don't reply. Because, truth be told, I don't have an answer. I don't think that far off in the future. I don't plan. I just want to live life day-by-day without interference. Without worrying about making relationships and forging families.

Because at the end of the day, you are all you need.

"I'm not your patient," I spat, pushing my chair back as I stood up. Claudia follows my gaze. "I don't need you to give me a prescription or write down my traumas. I am fine. You don't need to worry about me. It's not like you're my real family. You don't need to keep pretending."

I waited a moment for a response. Yet, Claudia never gave me what I wanted. I took this as the notice and to step out, leaving the dining room and head up to my room.

The moment the door closes behind me, I bite the inside of my cheek. My thoughts begin to process and unravel like a ball of yarn. It was messy, and intangible, and I hated it. I would never admit it but Claudia's words caught me by surprise.

Where are you going? What are you doing afterwards? What are your dreams?

Both my hands came to my head, running them through my hair as I try to shake out the voice. But, it's hard. It's hard to block something out when it's coming from inside, and it's hard to comprehend pain when what you feel isn't physical. It's internal.