Had she really been that loud? Maybe so. If the strain in her throat was any indication, any sounds coming out had to have been pretty violent. Somehow, knowing that someone alive, rather than the zombies, had heard her, was much, much worse. The fact that it had been Evan who'd heard her and come running? Well, that was the worst possible scenario of all.
Shitfit. Leah bristled at the phrase. As if that could even begin to describe what she was going through, how she felt. The only indication she gave to not approving of the description was a brief twitching of one shoulder. Shitfit, indeed.
"Well, at least there's nothing wrong with your ears," she muttered, the retort not as powerful as it should have been. Sniffing, Leah raked both hands down her face, clearing away some of the evidence that she'd been crying. The dampness and redness of her eyes would give it away, for sure, but there was nothing she could do about that.
Leaning forward, Leah rested her elbows on her knees, ducking her head so that she could massage her brow. Her head was pounding all of a sudden. From her peripheral vision, she saw Evan sitting there, as if making himself comfortable for the inevitable show. If he was waiting for her to blow up at him, he'd be there for a while. She didn't have the energy to physically throw him out.
When the man spoke up about them mutually being one another's least favorite person, Leah managed a snort and a nod. His next words instinctively made her want to voice an argument; however, there was very little she could say to refute his point. A response formed on her lips, but after the briefest of pauses, Evan was speaking again, and she let him finish.
"Screaming helps," Leah began, brushing her hair back over her shoulder, yet still unwilling to meet his gaze. "But I can only do that for so long, obviously."
"Why are you even trying to help me? It's not like you owe me anything." She shook her head. This was stupid. It was nothing like the conversation they'd had on the roof, about Evan's dead wife and the ring Leah had found. Except it was, wasn't it? Not the exact same circumstances, but similar. The one person she wanted least to talk about this with, ironically, might just be the only one who could possibly understand.
Leah puffed out her cheeks. Glanced at him. Glanced away. Wet her lips. Tapped her feet on the carpeted floor. Finally, she said, "Four years ago today, I was bitten."