”I CAN’T BE YOUR FUCKING FRIEND.”

—

Reegan’s voice echoed through the empty dorm hall of Yale. It was so dark, too dark, setting the mood.

You just didn’t get it, did you? You were always too soft, too forgiving. Reegan, hurt you. Mentally, emotionally. Maybe physically. Perhaps physically, if you ever listened to him shame you for your looks. Your body.

It didn’t matter to him if he made you laugh, if he made you cry. He didn’t want you to forgive him. He wanted you to hate him forever, to hold a grudge. Not to feed his ego or make him feel better about himself, but because he deserved it. All of it. Hatred. Despise. Dislike. It was his language, the thing he received when he dished it out. But it confused him now. Seeing a smile instead of a frown on your lips. From him? ’how?’—he’d thought. He felt like a fake, a fraud.

he felt like he’d tricked you into liking him as a person. that you’d somehow been manipulated by him and it wasn’t you talking. that it wasn’t you saying you wanted to stay like this. get along with him, not fight anymore. not to cry anymore. he didn’t believe it—he couldn’t believe it.

you didn’t know which was worse. him hurting you or him not believing you.