Ninety

On the fifth day, a knock sounds on the door to our--my bedroom. The place I have been holed up since the news. He should be the one at the door, I stopped Lydia from coming in to clean. I sigh. Doesn't he understand the definition of space? I need space. Time too.

The knock comes again, stronger. I push my phone under one pillow, it has been on aeroplane mode for days, bury my face in another and let out a scream. I don't feel like doing anything. All I want is to exist in this numbness I am fast getting accustomed to.

Rolling on my back to glower at the door, the bullhead behind it should have taken the hint, I don't want to see anybody. "Who's that?" My voice is scratchy from lack of use, I receive no reply and my chest falls. I close my eyes, massage my temples. "Who's there?"

"Brandon."

I place a pillow on my face, if I apply more pressure I might be able to suffocate myself. "Go away." Discarding the pillow to pull the covers over my head, I hug myself