Blythe
"Sunshine, why don't you come sit?" Spencer asks, sounding more condescending than hospitable.
I rub my hands together and release a shaky breath. I should cooperate. It will make the night go faster. I remind myself that arguing will get me no further than conceding. I just have to stop feeling guilty for realizing this. There is not much action to take for the time being.
I turn around and sit on the sofa chair, pulling my knees to my chest as I glue my eyes to the television screen. They finish rolling the opening credits but I cannot focus enough to read the final monikers. How much time has passed since they left? Two minutes, maybe three? It feels like time is moving through honey.
"Why are you sitting over there?" Spencer asks cheekily.
"An inclination, I suppose," I
