FicWad

She was lying on the bed, probably asleep by now; the girl named Karen. She was perhaps in her twenties, perhaps a year or two older than me. She was beautiful, no doubt, and every time I looked at her I started wondering where I'd seen her before.
I was left to sleep on the couch even though I knew none of us would have minded if we both slept on the bed. We were both grown ups, we could handle that. But there was a thin curtain of ice between us and so we didn't talk more than necessary. It felt like she was invading my personal space. I couldn't really put my finger on as to why it felt like this. I was never good with understanding my own feelings.
The leather of the couch felt uncomfortable under me, sticking to my bare arms, but the leather got warm eventually and felt like skin. It feelt like Ayah's skin when he was sweating from a nightmare or when he got warm because he would always sweat when he slept, his hair sticking to his face, his clothes sticking to his skin, and his bare skin sticking to mine. What had he thought when he saw me leave like that? When he saw me leave without even saying hello? I'd text-messaged him in the car, but that didn't stop me from worrying. I was considering leaving, even though I knew it was rude and that Layla would scold me. What would Ayah have done? Would he have just given her a smile and excused himself? I knew he would do that because Ayah could be deceitful, Ayah could make you do what he wanted without you feeling were being deceived, he made you think you did the only thing that was right, the only logical choice. Because Ayah's eyes made you think he was giving you the world. You simply couldn't get angry with Ayah. Even though he could also get in trouble now and then...
I lay on the couch, the back of my hand resting on my forehead though I knew I wouldn't be able to sleep and that this would be a long night. Had I no means of escaping this? I felt trapped suddenly; something was gripping my stomach and turning it. I tightened the muscles of my stomach, trying to wave the feeling off, I wanted to hit something, roar. The black of the room was blinding me, the black felt like total silence, the black was deafening, it was consuming me, closing me in. And the selfish light and noise of the cars that drove far below didn't make it better, only worse. I felt like a prisoner, and those cars were free people around me, rubbing it in my face. I was bored and the pyrosis was annoying me even further. Stop this madness, I thought, this dosn't make sense.
I got up, staring out of the window, letting my fingers and forehead touch the cold glass. The sky was black, no stars, and the greyness reflecting on the clouds gave away the position of the Moon. I heard the sheets rustle; she was moving in her sleep. I looked at her for a moment just to make sure she was asleep, and then slid down the wall, sitting down. I rested my head against the window. The cold of the glass made my cheek cold too. I closed my eyes and saw him, saw him lying down like I would see him from above, and looking down on him, his eyes looked pass me, reflecting my silhoutte, looking through me. My lips pouted unconsciously as if to kiss the imaginary Ayah in my mind. Not that I'd dare to do that in reality. I felt silly, like a teenager dreaming of their idol, but there was no helping it. Even imagining made my blood pump at a faster rate.
I couldn't take this any longer. I got up to my feet, put my clothes on hastily, careful not to make any avoidable noise, and left.