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“I can’t…I can’t…” I’, now Out of his roo it all up, forcing all the shit I’ve buried to the surface He knows it and he’s doing it on purpose

I’ve kept it all down for so long, and whenever it threatened to come up, come out, I’d drink until it settled back down, or I’d cut and bleed it out rather than feel it, rather than cry or screary

I know he has whiskey soe, and I can’t reach high enough to look in the cupboard above the fridge where I know it must be I climb on the counter, reach for it, and losehard into the floor, and the breath is knocked out ofup It came up when he forced uilt ca e that Kyle is gone Of course he’s gone, I’ve known that But this is the grief The hurt The loneliness It’s worse than the guilt I always knew the guilt rong and uilt I can’t justify away, can’t shift or explain or bury any longer

I’ in my stomach and heart

No

No

I won’t let it out

He forced out the guilt He can’t force out the grief I don’t want it It’s too much It’ll shred me

A drawer sla, but it’sin the drawer for a knife Let hi, now He’d been giving

He’s too late

The pain is a blessed relief I watch in guilty satisfaction as a thin line of red wells up on my forearm The knife wasn’t very sharp, so I had to press It’s a deep cut

“What the fk?” Colton, wearing shorts, rushing at ry, scared “Nell…what the fk?”

I don’t bother answering I’ red, and it’s too rief slides away and slicks across the scratched laminate floor

I’m in his ar pink-to-cri my arm so hard it hurts past the cut-pain The towel is wrapped around ht

I’m between his knees, my back to his front I feel his hard chest and his frantic, panting breath, his ar the belt in one hand, my wrist in the other His face is pressed to the top of my head His breath huffs loud in my ear, on my hair

“Goddamn it, Nell Why?”