You Think I Won't Talk?

’You idiot... we just met, show a little more tact. I’m supposedly an eighteen-year-old girl. You could make me cry, you know?... should I cry? Huh? You as*...’

Well... To be fair, if I were him... I would ask too. In a way, he did ask with the right words. He didn’t ask if I’m "sick", but if I had a "condition". That’s a big difference after all.

With that in mind, I took back the paper and wrote:

[ I can not speak. ]

"...Why?" — He asked immediately after, tilting his head.

’Why should I tell you?’

D*rn... His bluntness kinda... bugs me.

"Ah...I–Is this only with outsiders?" — He said cautiously as if he was assuming I couldn’t speak because I was just too shy.

’Should I teach him the saying... "Curiosity killed the cat"?... Theodore, are you a cat? Do you want to die??’

Even if I thought this... I can’t tell him that.

Just call me two-faced.

[ No. I do not speak with anyone, neither my family nor outsiders. I am sorry, but this topic is uncomfortable for me. Please help me with my request. ]