She sways slightly, catching herself on the dresser.
I'm across the room in two strides, hands on her arms, steadying her.
"Easy."
"I'm so tired, Gunnar."
"I know."
"Tired of pretending. Tired of being what everyone expects. Tired of—" Her voice breaks. "Tired of being the girl nobody kept."
Her words from our conversation outside echo back, taking on new weight.
The girl nobody wanted to keep.
"That's not true," I tell her.
"Yes it is. Njal proved it. Bjorn proved it. I'm only good for one thing, and even then?—"
"Stop."
"It's true."
"It's not."
"Then why—" She looks up at me, eyes swimming. "Why does everyone leave?"
"Because they're fucking cowards who couldn't handle what you are."
"What am I?"
Everything.
"Real," I say. "Fierce. Worth more than they could understand."
She laughs, but it's broken. "You don't mean that."
"I do."
"You're just being nice because you feel sorry for me."
"I don't feel sorry for you."
"Then what do you feel?"
The question is a trap.
A door I've kept locked for a year.
But she's looking at me with those eyes, and I'm so tired of lying.
"Everything," I admit. "I feel everything."
She goes still.
"Gunnar—"
"You want honesty? Here it is. I've been watching you for a year. Watching you hurt. Watching you destroy yourself. Watching other men touch you when they don't deserve to breathe the same air. And every time you post those pictures,every time you go out looking for trouble, I lose my mind because I can't—" I stop, jaw tight. "I can't watch you do this anymore."
