Page 560 of Call Me Baby 2: Side B

Tells me—I dunno, maybe you didn't mean to say that. 'Cause this feels like you really don't give a fuck at all. Or maybe hell, you only fuckin' love someone if they say it right back. And now I can’t believe a goddamn thing you say anymore.

[a groan]

I didn’t mean that.

I do believe you.

I just fuckin’ miss you.

I miss you so damn much.

I hate you not bein’ here with me. I hate this. I hate wakin’ up, worryin’, fuckin’ thinkin’ about you all the goddamn time. Only ounce of peace I get is when I’m sleepin’, but I can’t even fuckin’ sleep. I keep endin’ up at the penthouse ‘cause I keep thinkin’ maybe, maybe tonight will be the night that elevator will ding. Maybe she’ll walk in and take this out on me. Scream at me. Hate me. Hit me. I don’t fuckin’ care. I just want to be standin' in front of you right now.

[exhales]

I can’t do this anymore.

I can’t do this ever again.

And now I’m real fuckin’ scared.

‘Cause I don’t know if you’re gone for good or if you’re just gone for now. But either way I need you to get your ass back here.

So I can try to fix this.

Please, Allison.

Just come back.

// JAN 09, 11:19 PM //

I don’t know how many days it’s been.

I don’t know what time it is.

The cold bites when I step into the black Pennsylvania night.

It shouldn’t feel good, but it does.

I inhale, deep and desperate,

filling my lungs,

then exhale long,

trying to push him out of me.

The streets are so dead quiet it’s as if the world’s stopped. There’s one streetlight working on the far corner of the lot, casting a sickly gold over the snowbank below.

My boots crunch on the icy gravel as I head toward the edge of the property, pulling a cigarette from the pack.

I flick my lighter, orange flame slashing the night, and take a long, deep drag, the paper crackling as it burns, the smoke billowing into the freeze.

A man appears out of the dark, stepping right into the pool of light, hands buried deep in his pockets, head ducked, collar of his jacket up against the chill.

My heart blinks awake, the cigarette nearly slipping through my fingers.

Andrew? I step forward,