He came in late again.

But this time, he didn’t bother with excuses or half-hearted nods. The door had barely shut before he sank onto the couch, shoulders trembling, hands twitching.

You didn’t even have to ask. You could see it written all over him.

His breath hitched as he dragged his palms over his face, trying to ground himself, but it didn’t work, nothing did, not anymore...

“I dont know how long i can do this... it breaks me..” He choked out, clearly having a meltdown.. the smuggling of the braindead pregnant women is really taking a toll on him.

You stayed quiet, watching him unravel. The mask he always wore wasn’t there today... Just Neil, the man underneath, stripped bare by whatever cargo he’d hauled through the shadows.

“They lied to me... Saying this time its a normal cargo...” His hands gripped his hair, pulling slightly. "But they lied... It was a damn corpse again..."

You leaned forward, careful not to crowd him, his eyes were red, not from tears, atleast not yet, but from the effort not to let them fall.

Then he finally looked at you, not as his therapist, not even as a person, just someone who might tell him he’s not a monster...