Trust Your Own True Mind — @melchiwhoree
Honestly, Melchior Gabor was the last person Martha wanted to see. She didn't know if she was still angry, or guilty, or what, but it felt awful, and seeing him would only make her feel worse. And yet, here she was, waiting for him in the library, nervously fidgeting with the end of her braid. She knew it had to be done -- their project would be due soon -- but part of her wanted to leave and put it off for another day. A larger part, of course, wanted the grade and kept her in her seat, but it still nice to imagine Melchior arriving to find an empty chair instead of her.
She wondered if he'd bring it up. She had never known Melchior to keep his mouth shut, but she couldn't help hoping. Still, she kept going over the possible scenarios, the possible excuses. Why don't you call social services? Why don't you run away? Why do you stay with a man who hits you? And, of course, the true answer was something she didn't think Melchior would believe. I have no other choice. But that was the truth, plain and simple. And, honestly, she couldn't even begrudge him asking those questions. She certainly would have, if the situations were reversed. What really got her was his implication that her "rebellion," small as it was, meant nothing.
But she wouldn't think about that. Otherwise, she'd get mad all over again. Instead, she pulled a book at random from the stack she had gathered, reading a random passage and retaining none of it. She was beginning to hope that he wouldn't show when she finally noticed him. She looked up for a moment to nod at him, but then quickly looked down at the book, as if she could hide in it.