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Everything inside me stops.

Not Are you okay?

Not Have you seen this?

Not even Do you know anything about it?

Just What did you do?

An accusation. Already decided. Already convicted.

“I didn't do anything.”

“Don't lie to me. You didn't come back here last night. You just took what you wanted and left. You fucking used me.”

His words gut me.

They're brutal.

Cold.

And so fucking unfair that for a second I can't even find my voice.

“I used you?”

“You lied to me.”

Something inside me snaps.

“Fuck you, Mitchell.”

Silence.

Good.

Maybe I've finally managed to surprise the man who thinks he knows everything.

“I can't believe you think I wrote this. And I really can't believe you have the fucking gall to act like you're the wronged person here.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“It means you used me, Mitchell.”

“I didn't⁠—”

“Yes. You did.”

My heart is pounding so hard it hurts.

Yesterday, I would've defended this man to anyone.

Yesterday, I did.

And now he's calling me a liar before he's even bothered to ask me a single fucking question.

“You want to know why I didn't come back to your house last night?”

“I already know why! You were researching my grandfather, got your fucking story, and then you disappeared.”