"I'm not sleeping on your bed!" How dare he presume I would? As if I would ever share a bed with a criminal.
He looks at me as if I'm insane. It makes me feel self-conscious against my will. "On my bed? What makes you think that?"
"You just pointed at it." I explain. "You said I'll have to sleep in here."
"In here, yes. But I didn't mean my bed," he stands to his full height. I feel so small next to him. It's one of the most infuriating feelings ever. "I meant what's underneath it." He lowers to the floor and sticks his hand beneath his bed. He pulls out a thin mattress. I stare at it in shock. He expects me to sleep in this old, thin, dirty mattress? This is what he meant?
I scoff. "You must be joking." This is preposterous. There's no reason why I should sleep in this. He said the
