Look into my eye
"Your face makes me sick, you know," I tell him. "It's disgusting."
Bobby shrugs, scratches his chin and leans back in his chair. "To you maybe. Your sister doesn't have a problem with it."
"She's an idiot."
"All little sisters are required to say so about their older sisters," he tells me. "Doesn't mean it's true."
I turn my head away, no longer wanting to look at him. "It's true, I'm saying so. I know her best."
"You've known her the longest, doesn't mean you know her best."
I look at him again, squint my eyes and stare real hard at his one eye, for the other is burned to an ugly scar. I lift my chin up a little higher and straighten my back when I talk next. "You know nothing. All you do is talk nonsense, it's annoying. I don't want you to marry her. You don't suit her, you will just ruin the pictures with your face."
He seems to think for a moment, and I think that maybe I've hurt him with my words somehow. Weirdly enough, guilt starts to seep in for a bit, before I roughly push that aside. I hate Bobby, hurting him is a good thing.
"Can I ask you Clara-," he starts.
"No," I interrupt. "You can't."
He looks at me with his good eye again, and I have to hold back from looking away in disgust and fear.
"Do you dislike me because you feel like I'm taking your sister away or because you're truly as superficial as you seem and you're that disturbed by my face?"
"I don't want to answer you," I spit. "I hate you, that's the truth. I don't want you here, or near my sister. I want you to leave, to disappear and never come back."
Bobby is quiet again, thinking again and I hope my sister will come down soon. I don't want to hear his words. They only annoy me and always come back to haunt me, when the guilt starts to seep in again.
"I'm not taking her away for good, you know," he says, softly. "Only for awhile. We'll be back for Christmas and in the summer."
"You say that now."
"You don't think we'll keep that promise?"
I try very hard not to blink when I answer back. "No, I don't think so. I think you'll forget all about us when you have your own little house, with your own little white picket fence, and your own little perfect garden."
"Clara?" The sound of my sister's voice makes our heads snap to the doorway, where she's standing in her favorite sunflower dress, with her sunglasses in hand. "That's not true. We won't forget about you."
I get up from my chair, my hands curled into fists. "It is, I know it is! And he," I point at Bobby. "Is the one that is going to make you forget! That disgusting man is going to make you forget all about us and you don't even realize it. I hate him, and I hate you too. I hate you both!"
I run past my shocked faced sister, up the stairs and to my room, where I won't have to see them again. Never again.
AN: Something I wrote when I wanted to work on something other than a chapter for my story. Usually these little written pieces are never finished and I was a bit surprised that this one was, even though it's incredibly short and simple.
It wasn't betaed, so I apologize for any mistakes I've made.