Page 85 of Tormented

“Getting a room usually requires asking for one, you know.” She pointedly jerks her head toward the dimly lit office.

“Yeah, I’ll get on that.” Shaking my head does nothing to clear the echoes swimming inside. It’s as though the devil’s seen what I want from her and opened the door to all the voices of my past. They swirl around in a painful eddy of doubts and questions.

Have I broken her? Was she doing okay before I found her making up my room all those weeks ago, and it’s me who’s done this? The curse of Sawyer strikes, yet again . . . .

Who else, you idiot . . .?

I chase my usual hand to the head with another on the other side, just for good measure. If I’m going to make it through tonight without falling at her feet and begging her to tell me what the problem is, I’ll need to get a grip on things. Even so, I need to know; my mind won’t settle until I’m assured that I’m not the cause of her setback.

But what if I am? What if she tells me that I’m the reason for this breakdown in her?

Fuck.

As if you’d ever have reason to doubt that you’re at fault . . . .

Useless . . . .

Broken . . . .

Boy . . . .