𝐋'𝐀𝐌𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐄𝐍 𝐂𝐀𝐆𝐄 .

         𝐢  𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝  𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫,   𝐛𝐞𝐜𝐤.   and i know you won’t know that yet  —  we still have a lot of getting to know each other to do.  but you’re safe.  you’re medicine.  candace was a sickness that i didn’t think i would ever recover from  —  pain,  and hurt,  and the constant doubt…  —  i’m not crazy.  no,  i mean,  i’m not crazy.  but you…  you’re the smell of pancakes in the morning,  and a flat white with perfectly - textured milk.  so when it naturally comes to the big climax of a great boombox - above - the - head romantic gesture,  this is all i’ve got.  my heart on my sleeve,  because i know you’re not into the big,  dramatic,  expectant displays.  (i mean,  really?  don’t girls feel pressured by that kind of shit?)

if anything,  i thought you would break my heart.  that’s why i had to be so sure.  and sure,  maybe i’ve done some things that don’t exactly belong in a romance novel  (see benji ashby the third in his final smoky resting place)  but i know how i feel.  i love you,  beck.  i want to love you.  i want to take care of you the way you need to be taken care of  —  the way you deserve it.

                                  and when we kiss it’s goddamn fireworks!

       “oh,  absolutely.  i’ve already decided how i’m breaking things off.”

but that’s a joke.  and we can do that kind of thing  —  joke  —  because you know i’d never do that kind of thing to you.  because i’m not like other guys.  i’m not benji,  attached to his phone and his gratuitous circle - jerk of home soda,  whatever the fuck that means,  or any of your tinder hook - ups.  i’m joe.  your joe.

        “—  but you should kiss me again to change my mind.”

𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓  𝐁𝐄𝐆𝐈𝐍𝐒  𝐓𝐎  𝐏𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐃  𝐋𝐎𝐔𝐃𝐋𝐘  𝐈𝐍  𝐇𝐄𝐑  𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐒 ,   𝐒𝐊𝐈𝐍  𝐁𝐄𝐆𝐈𝐍𝐒  𝐓𝐎  𝐁𝐔𝐑𝐍  𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇  𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐆𝐄 .   choosing  the  good  guy  wasn’t  her  usual  m.o.   no ,   instead  it  was  choosing  guys  like  benji ,   the  ones  who  really  did  a  number  on  her  psyche  in  the  long  run .   joe  too  had  the  capability  of  breaking  her  heart ,   truly  smashing  her  to  pieces ,   but  with  the  way  things  were  going ,   she  couldn’t  see  it  anytime  in  the  near  future .   if  it  does  come  to  a  fiery  end ,   at  least  peach  would  get  to  say  her  i  told  you  so’s  as  they  sat  in  a  secluded  cabin ,   drinking  away  her  heartache .   hopefully ,   though ,   hopefully  this  wouldn’t  happen .   perhaps  for  once  life  could  be  less  sylvia  plath ,   more  emily  brontë .   that  thought  alone  causes  her  bottom  lip  to  rake  against  her  teeth ,   taking  the  whole  moment  in  as  she  stays  quiet ,   all  before  a  chuckle  bubbles  over  bubblegum  lips .

𝐨𝐡,   𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞  𝐨𝐧,  𝐛𝐞𝐜𝐤.  don’t you see that we’re going round in circles?  you lash out at me  –  which,  starting to piss me off now.  for the record.  and then i give you the logical and reasonable explanations behind everything that’s happened,  and you still only tear a corner of the waffle at a time off.  but at least you’re eating.  i can’t look after you if you go all emily davison on me  —  and that’s what you want.  you want someone to take care of you.  make you feel safe.  and granted,  there’s only so much i can do while you’re in the cage,  but it’s safe.  i won’t let anyone hurt you,  beck.

but candidly?  doctor nicky is still one you up? text away from sharing a casket with peach.  but i’m not a murderer,  beck.  i keep trying to explain this to you,  but you’re not listening  —  some people deserve to die.  but i guess we can’t always be on the same wavelength.  what you have to do is understand it from where i’m standing  —  granted,  that’s the other side of the glass,  but i can’t let you out if i don’t listen.  and you’re not listening.

              “no, he took advantage of you, beck — i don’t blame you.  you were vulnerable. i understand that now.”     you didn’t want to cheat on me   —   i gotta admit,  beck.  the guy can be persuasive.  but that’s who you let fuck you while you tell me you’re at therapy?  that guy?  honestly,  beck.  i knew you had bad taste in guys from your brief rendezvous with the embodiment of white male privilege,  but god.  you need me more than you know  —  and that’s not just because i changed the bucket at the side for you.  you’re welcome,  by the way.  

       “no, no, no, no — i didn’t stalk you,  beck.  i just had to be sure.”

i don’t like that word  —  it implies a creepiness i wasn’t going for.  i didn’t stalk you,  beck.  i wouldn’t do that to you  —  i would never do anything that would hurt you.  and you should know that,  because everything i’ve done has been to stop you from hurting.  so you can write.  so you can be free.

                      “you’re not listening.”   you’re not listening,  and you’ve got it in your head that i’m some kind of monster.  but you’re reaching out for me  —  i mean,  i think that’s pretty unambiguous.  you want me to show you i’m here?  that i’m listening?  i got you,  babe.  my hand presses against the glass too.  and i get it.  i understand why you’re upset,  but you’re also trying to make it right.  i appreciate that,  beck.  i do.  i’m not a cruel guy,  and i don’t want to keep you in here any longer than i have to.  the glass is cool when my forehead presses against it,  and part of me’s wondering when you’re gonna pull back.  please don’t do that,  beck.

      “i wanted to take care of you,  beck.  i still do.  we’re the real deal.”    we’re a rattling set of cans attached to a car away from that.  just married.  just growing old together.  just you and me.  right?  that’s all i need.  just for you to say that.  then we can get through anything.  i promise.

                “i know i’ve done some things that seem a little extreme,  but they deserved it,  beck  —  they were going to hurt you.”

𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆  𝐖𝐀𝐒  𝐆𝐎𝐈𝐍𝐆  𝐓𝐎  𝐌𝐀𝐊𝐄  𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒  𝐒𝐄𝐄𝐌  𝐀𝐍𝐘  𝐁𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑 .   instead ,   everything  was  making  him  sound  more  batshit  insane  than  he  already  was .   there  was  nothing  on  the  other  side  of  that  glass  except  a  monster ,   an  intruder   ---   an  obsessive  stalker ,   a  killer .   nothing  was  going  to  make  those  sins  disappear ,   nor  would  they  vanish  away  with  stockholm  syndrome .   this  was  not  the  man  she  fell  in  love  with .   the  joe  she  was  set  up  for ,   the  wonderful  facade  he  wore  so  well ,   was  not  him .   as  she  looked  up  at  him ,   her  heart  broke  from  pity   &   sheer  disgust .   whoever  told  him  this  was  okay  surely  did  a  number  on  him .   with  that  in  mind ,   none  of  it  was  forgivable .   they  were  not  meant  to  be .   she  wasn’t  going  to  play  the  role  of  lunatic  bride  who  could  overlook  his  extremes .   who  knows  who  else  he’d  kill  along  the  way ,   whether  it’d  be  her  or  another  loved  one .   as  far  as  beck  was  concerned ,   nobody  was  safe .

the  talk  of  doctor  nicky ,   these  lies  he’s  told  himself  to  make  it  all  okay ,   causes  her  head  to  shake .   ‘   joe ,   you’re  not  being  logical  or--- --   or  even  realistic .   ’   words  fall  from  her  lips  rather  freely ,   before  she  can  do  anything  to  stop  them  from  forcing  their  way  out .   sure ,   there  was  a  part  of  her  that  was  completely  devastated  by  peach’s  death ,   but  it  didn’t  turn  her  into  some  weak ,   vulnerable  creature  whose  freewill  got  turned  off .   no ,   that  was  all  on  her .   every  flirtation ,   every  movement .   the  way  she  walked  into  that  office ,   dressed  in  a  way  that  would  drive  any  man  mad .   every  part  was  deliberate ,   all  from  the  grief  of  losing  her  best  friend   &   the  fear  of  not  being  able  to  keep  joe .   reflecting  back  on  that ,   she  wishes  she  wouldn’t  have  gone  back .   kept  away  from  karen ,   stopped  every  never  again   &   let  it  be  just  that .   every  never  again  should’ve  been  the  last  time ,   but  for  some  unknown  reason ,   she  couldn’t  stay  away .   a  sigh  falls ,   brows  raise  in  an  accusatory  matter .   ‘   had  to  be  sure  of  what ?   ’   this  wasn’t  how  love’s  supposed  to  go .   you  don’t  get  a  free  pass  to  snoop  through  their  apartment ,   check  their  socials ,   follow  them  everywhere ,   just  to  be  sure  that  they’re  good  to  go .   it’s  driving  her  insane  to  not  speak  it  out  loud ,   wanting  nothing  more  than  to  explain  her  side  of  things .   point  blank   :   you’re  a  stalker   &   a  murderer ,   why  would  anyone  want  to  be  with  you ?   but  she  keeps  her  cool ,   for  now .   until  she  can  laugh  in  his  face  as  police  escorted  him  off  the  premises   &   put  him  where  he  belonged ,   a  worse  off  version  of  this  cage .

𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠  𝐢'𝐯𝐞  𝐝𝐨𝐧𝐞,   𝐢  𝐝𝐢𝐝  𝐟𝐨𝐫  𝐲𝐨𝐮.   for us.  you’d understand that if you stopped thinking so goddamn hard about the details that don’t matter  —  because do you know what matters most,  beck?  that you were happy.  that you felt safe.  that you weren’t screwing guys like benji,  or devoting your entire goddamn life to one of peach’s melodramas.  that’s what was important.  your writing.  and you’ll understand that somehow,  beck.  you have to understand that.  because honestly?  that’s the only way you’re getting out.

               “candace was different,  beck.”     god,  i fucking hate talking about this.  candace…  oh,  she really did a number on me,  beck.  she taught me why you can’t trust people  –  at least not at first.  not until you know they’re safe.  so,  i learnt from what she taught me.  i made sure you were.  and you were safe,  weren’t you?  —  sure,  you’re a little broken.  sure,  we’ve done a few things that wouldn’t exactly make into a byron poem,  but we’re here,  and we’re two halves of the same whole.  i believe that.  you’re the one,  beck.  and i’m the one for you.

           but candidly?  yeah.  candace is gone.  what can i say?  everyone has baggage.

            “— because we had a spark.  in the book store.  you know who i am,  beck — i didn’t lie to you.”    well.  not unless the lie was that there wasn’t a rotting,  entitled corpse in the trunk of the buick.  but come on,  beck  —  decomposition isn’t exactly an aphrodisiac. 

            “eat.”     that’s the deal,  isn’t it?  i answer,  you eat.  because i’ve learnt now  —  love is all about compromises.  you eat something,  i answer questions about how we came to be.  one day we’ll laugh about all this.  tell our kids,  then our kids’ kids,  but until then,  i know i fucked up.  i know i make mistakes  —  i’m only human. 

                “i googled you.  found your instagram.  facebook.  twitter.  you know,  i’ve been meaning to tell you,  but you should set those to private if you don’t want people looking at them.  but you want people to look,  right?  and sure,  i mean,  you paint yourself to be this,  uh,  yoga - loving, sunset - watching, adorkable little thing,  and that’s fine — but you’re real,  beck.  that’s why.”

          find me another girl who rides the L-train and reads hemingway at the same time.  because that’s who you are,  beck.  you’re real,  and you’re true,  and you’re like a first edition down in the cage  —  you need taking care of.  i obliged.  and honestly?  i don’t know why you’re having such a hard time of this.

𝐓𝐇𝐄  𝐀𝐍𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐑𝐒  𝐖𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐍'𝐓  𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐒𝐅𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐘  𝐁𝐘  𝐀𝐍𝐘  𝐌𝐄𝐀𝐍𝐒 .   how  could  they  be  when  they’re  about  you   &   your  stalker ?   two  people  who  obviously  weren’t  seeing  eye - to - eye  due  to  one  being  an  absolute  lunatic  who  was  out  of  their  mind .   talking  wasn’t  coming  easily .   all  the  nonsense  that  doctor  nicky  placed  into  her  head  about  opening  up  conversation   &   getting  what  she  wanted  from  it  wasn’t  working .   perhaps  it  was  a  bit  to  ambitious   ---   she  was  fucking  the  guy  after  all .   he  could’ve  been  filling  her  brain  with  bullshit  for  all  she  knows .   while  she  did  feel  better  after  their  sessions ,   she’s  now  beginning  to  doubt  his  help  seeing  that  none  of  it  applies  when  you’re  trapped  inside  a  glass  cage  meant  for  books .   or  at  least  that’s  what  she  was  told   ;   now  she’s  curious  as  to  what  mr .  mooney’s  true  purpose  for  it  was .   ‘   what  makes  us  so  different ?   candace  cheated ,   right ?   i  fucked  my  therapist .   what  makes  us  so  dissimilar  when  our  actions  are  the  same ?  ’

what  game  was  she  playing ?   beck  has  to  ask  herself  the  same .   the  energy  that  comes  back  to  her  from  chugging  half  of  the  latte  had  left  her  without  a  filter ,   restless ,   &   a  little  mean .   not  that  it  truly  matters .   she  was  probably  going  to  die  in  this  cage  if  she  didn’t  think  of  a  plan  other  than  asking  him  why  he  was  such  a  fuckup ,   repeatedly .   the  original  game  plan  was  to  play  it  nice ,   to  get  sympathy ,   to  see  if  that  would  work .   if  his  heart  would  swell  for  her  so  much  that  he’d  apologize   &   let  her  free .   but  that  hasn’t  been  the  case .   so  far  she  is  his  captive   &   it  seemed  as  though  only  one  of  them  could  see  it  that  way .

he  didn’t  lie .   this  emits  a  scoff .   unbelievable ,   she  thinks ,   all  while  trying  to  muster  up  something  about  how  his  whole  persona  was  a  lie .   at  least  it  felt  like  it .   forcing  her  to  fall  in  love  with  him  as  he  knew  more  than  he  should’ve ,   killed  her  people ,   &   kept  sick  mementos  for  whatever  purpose .   his  demand  pulls  her  out  of  her  thoughts ,   body  jerking ,   eyes  flinching  before  focusing  back  on  the  breakfast  he  brought .   the  woman  gulps ,   slowly  sinking  to  the  stool  in  front  of  the  glass ,   sitting  down  to  take  another  bite  of  the  food .   while  it  was  tasty   &   savory ,   her  tastebuds  heightening  to  a  new  extreme   &   relinquishing  in  the  fact  that  her  body  could  finally  stop  hissing  at  her  for  food ,   it  was  still  hard  to  eat .   the  nerves ,   being  a  few  feet  away  from  a  bucket  of  her  own  piss ,   &   the  anxiety  of  whether  or  not  he  was  poisoning  her  for  some  reason  was  still  lingering .   the  more  he  talks ,   the  more  he  admits ,   the  more  she  eats   &   she  digs  in  like  it’s  both  her  first  meal  in  weeks   &   her  last  meal  ever .

𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐒  𝐁𝐄𝐆𝐈𝐍  𝐓𝐎  𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓  𝐇𝐄𝐑  𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐃 ,   𝐀𝐒  𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐘  𝐔𝐒𝐔𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐘  𝐃𝐎 .   what  if  joe  wasn’t  the  one ?   what  if  he  was ?   he  could  be  the  prince  charming  she’d  been  waiting  for ,   hoping  for .   time   &   time  again  he’d  proven  that  he  was  good   ---   so  good ,   too  damn  good  in  every  aspect ,   to  the  point  where  she  questioned  his  every  move .   he  was  there  for  her ,   a  friend  to  run  to  when  she  was  in  need ,   a  shoulder  to  lean  on ,   someone  to  bitch  to .   he’d  been  good  about  her  friends ,   sweet  on  girls  night .   not  to  mention ,   anything  including  their  bodies  melding  together  had  been  pretty  remarkable  thus  far   ---   better  than  what  the  first  time  lead  her  to  believe .   now  as  he  stands  there ,   heart  on  his  sleeve ,   waiting  for  beck’s  answer ,   she  isn’t  sure  what  to  say .   her  heart  melts  for  the  good  guy  while  it  breaks  for  the  ones  who’s  chewed  her  up   &   spit  her  out .   what  if  she  didn’t  deserve  good ,   sweet ,   &   happy ?   what  if  she  ruined  him ?   the  million  what  if’s  play  on  forever  in  her  mind ,   making  a  sick  game  of  it  all  as  she  stands  in  silence ,   truly  conflicted  before  her  brain  shuts  itself  up   &   an  arm  extends  without  second  thought ,   tugging  at  his  sweater  to  pull  him  down  towards  her ,   letting  their  lips  crash  together  yet  again  as  her  silent  answer .   she  was  picking  him ,   choosing  him ,   slowly  loving  him .   it  was  for  the  better  after  all ,   wasn’t  it ?   maybe  she  deserved  this   ---   someone  like  joe ,   true  happiness .   ‘   you  put  up  a  strong  argument ,   ’   she  finally  says ,   a  smirk  steadily  growing .   ‘   you’re  not  gonna  go  off   &   break  my  heart  anytime  soon ,   are  you ?   ’

𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐒  𝐁𝐄𝐆𝐈𝐍  𝐓𝐎  𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓  𝐇𝐄𝐑  𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐃 ,   𝐀𝐒  𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐘  𝐔𝐒𝐔𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐘  𝐃𝐎 .   what  if  joe  wasn’t  the  one ?   what  if  he  was ?   he  could  be  the  prince  charming  she’d  been  waiting  for ,   hoping  for .   time   &   time  again  he’d  proven  that  he  was  good   ---   so  good ,   too  damn  good  in  every  aspect ,   to  the  point  where  she  questioned  his  every  move .   he  was  there  for  her ,   a  friend  to  run  to  when  she  was  in  need ,   a  shoulder  to  lean  on ,   someone  to  bitch  to .   he’d  been  good  about  her  friends ,   sweet  on  girls  night .   not  to  mention ,   the  sex  had  been  pretty  remarkable  thus  far   ---   better  than  what  the  first  time  lead  her  to  believe .   now  as  he  stands  there ,   heart  on  his  sleeve ,   waiting  for  beck’s  answer ,   she  isn’t  sure  what  to  say .   her  heart  melts  for  the  good  guy  while  it  breaks  for  the  ones  who’s  chewed  her  up   &   spit  her  out .   what  if  she  didn’t  deserve  good ,   sweet ,   &   happy ?   what  if  she  ruined  him ?   the  million  what  if’s  play  on  forever  in  her  mind ,   making  a  sick  game  of  it  all  as  she  stands  in  silence ,   truly  conflicted  before  her  brain  shuts  itself  up   &   an  arm  extends  without  second  thought ,   tugging  at  his  sweater  to  pull  him  down  towards  her ,   letting  their  lips  crash  together  yet  again  as  her  silent  answer .   she  was  picking  him ,   choosing  him ,   slowly  loving  him .   it  was  for  the  better  after  all ,   wasn’t  it ?   maybe  she  deserved  this   ---   someone  like  joe ,   true  happiness .   ‘   you  put  up  a  strong  argument ,   ’   she  finally  says ,   a  smirk  steadily  growing .   ‘   you’re  not  gonna  go  off   &   break  my  heart  anytime  soon ,   are  you ?   ’

𝐓𝐇𝐄  𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐍𝐃𝐄  𝐓𝐀𝐊𝐄𝐒  𝐀  𝐌𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓  𝐎𝐅  𝐒𝐈𝐋𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄  𝐓𝐎  𝐌𝐔𝐋𝐋  𝐈𝐓  𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐑 .   peach  wasn’t  wrong .   she  hardly  ever  was .   especially  when  it  came  to  the  likes  of  benjamin  j.  ashby  iii .   there  was  hardly  any  truth  when  it  came  to  that  man ,   yet  beck  was  hooked  for  no  good  reason .   he  was  a  druggie   ;   one  that  treated  her  like  shit ,   broke  her  heart ,   &   couldn’t  even  make  her  cum .   now  he  was  feeding  lies  into  her  via  text  message   &   email   &   drug  induced  tweets .   it  all  took  beck’s  heartbreak  to  a  new  extreme .   wanting  benji  was  her  own  damn  conflict ,   loving  him  was  just  trouble .   ‘   fine ,   you’re  right .   i  know  you’re  right .   we’re  done  with  benji .   ’   the  words  sound  strained ,   as  if  she’s  forcing  herself  to  say  it .   fake  it  till  you  make  it  was  the  only  mentality  she  could  apply  to  the  current  situation .   new  mentality  or  not ,   there’s  still  a  prominent  frown  intact  on  plump  lips  as  she  tucks  a  strand  of  loose  hair  behind  her  hair ,   trying  to  figure  out  what’s  next .   ‘   who  knows ,   maybe  it’s  time  to  dust  off  the  old  tinder  profile   &   give  it  another  go .   ’   that  or  write .   she  knows  it’s  time  to  write   &   has  a  not - so - wild  hunch  that  peach  was  about  to  tell  her  the  same .   maybe  she  could  write  about  benji   &   be  done  with  it ,   all  while  flinging  herself  into  a  few  strange  beds . 

              𝐠𝐨𝐨𝐝.   𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐫𝐞  𝐝𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠  𝐭𝐡𝐞  𝐜𝐨𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐞.   at least that’s a start.  see,  i’ve spent weeks trying to understand you  —  months trying to get to know you better.  you somehow believed that a guy like benji is all you deserved.  you somehow believed that someone like peach,  with all her drama and all her perversions,  was the only best friend that you had.  god,  you lived such a sad life  —  and then you let me.  when you let go of those things in your life,  look what happened.  you’re a writer.  you write.  you don’t sit there,  drinking you caramel fucking macchiato and dipping your toe in the proverbial river and staring out the window like a goddamn over - hyped,  over - watched music video.  because that’s not life.  we get that,  though,  right,  beck?  you and i  —  we understand that. 

there are some things you need to know.  one,  i’m not a killer.  passionate,  yes,  but i never set out to kill those people  —  they were just obstacles that needed to get out the way. two,  i only took your panties as a keepsake  —  a little memoir,  if you will.  the first time i met you.  then the first time i was in your apartment.  ode to beck.  i didn’t do anything creepy with them,  okay?  i just wanted them.  nice guys don’t get what they want,  unless they go and take it.  so i did what any other guy would do,  and took them.

         “but i didn’t set out to kill them,  beck  —  i didn’t do it on purpose.  you have to understand that,  right?”  you have to,  beck,  because frankly  —  i’m not sure how we’re supposed to get through this if you don’t.  i don’t know what i’m going to do.  at least we’re making progress  —  opening a dialogue.  doctor nicky would be proud  —  we’re finally processing our feelings in a healthy,  constructive way.  but i’m not sure if you ever listened to him,  when you were pressed up against his nice,  long,  hard  oak desk.  (but i don’t blame you for that.  he took advantage of you.  i’ll deal with him soon.)

and now you’re eating.  i knew you’d feel better once you got some food down you.  that’s why i got your favourite  —  i told you i was a good boyfriend.  you eat,  and i’ll eat too.  that’s why i pull the chair up  —  not because i particularly want this conversation to happen,  but at least we’re having breakfast together again.

          “candace broke my heart,  beck.  i had to make sure you were safe  —  i had to make sure you wouldn’t do that to me too.”    candace.  god,  i thought we were over this. the whole get to know my ex and how she hurt me spiel is really getting fucking old right about now.  we’ve been through this.  we’ve had the i would never hurt you that way talk over eggs and coffee. 

               “i do care about you.  i do love you.  please,  beck  —  please,  understand that.  i wouldn’t do any of this if i didn’t.”

𝐒𝐊𝐈𝐍  𝐂𝐑𝐀𝐖𝐋𝐒 ,   𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐒  𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 ,   𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐃  𝐆𝐎𝐄𝐒  𝐍𝐔𝐌𝐁 .   it’s  a  combination  she  hasn’t  felt  in  years .   not  since  her  father  walked  out .   except  then  it  was  normal .   a  lot  of  kids  knew  divorce  from  a  young  age ,   sadly  quite  a  few  knew  addiction  as  well .   that  feeling ,   the  way  her  mind  tried  to  shut  her  entire  being  down ,   was  now  foreign   &   came  back  with  a  whole  new  force .   however  this  time  her  senses  heighten   &   her  body  kicks  to  a  new  extreme .   no  one  (   save  for  possibly  benji ,   peach ,   candace ,   &   god  knows  who  else   )   have  never  experienced  this .   the  way  your  skin  pricks  every  time  he  talks ,   the  way  your  heart  pounds  out  of  your  chest  the  moment  he  walks  down  the  steps .   a  few  days  ago  she  was  in  love .   god ,   she  was  in  love  with  him  just  hours  prior  to  knowing  what  he  was .   now  she’s  living  in  regret .   every  little  thing  she  did  wrong  rings  in  her  head ,   giving  her  clear  sight  of  the  things  that  could  be  happening  now  had  she  not  walked  into  mooney’s  one  day  in  pursuit  of  a  fucking  paula  fox  novel  she  could’ve  easily  ordered  on  amazon .   one  little  interaction  blossomed  into  next  level  mental  torment  that  she’d  only  read  about .

the  more  swigs  of  coffee  the  better .   with  every  small  sip ,   her  fight  or  flight  senses  kick  in .   mind  sends  into  overdrive ,   now  wanting  to  keep  the  pathway  for  conversation  open .   distract  him ,   distract  herself .   she  wanted  answers ,   she  wanted  him  on  his  knees  with  guilt  so  she  could  make  her  escape .   this  tactic ,   however ,   wasn’t  proving  to  be  easy .   instead  it  was  more  difficult  than  she  could’ve  imagined .   not  a  damn  thought  he  had  was  logical .   no  matter  how  he  phrased  it ,   no  matter  the  motive ,   he  was  still  a  killer .   the  more  time  she  has  to  think  about  it ,   to  pace  her  little  cage  trying  to  wrap  her  head  around  it ,   the  only  thought  she  has  was  he  was  a  obsessive  sociopathic  stalker .   that  was  it .   nothing  more ,   absolutely  nothing  less .   ‘   you’re  kidding  me ,   right ?   you  don’t  just--- --  accidentally  murder someone .   ’