NUMB

eight

I always make the wrong decisions.

I knew that when I told our adviser about what you've been doing.

It's scary how easily people can be manipulated with lies. It's scary to know how easy it is for you to manipulate people.

You. You're scary.

I always make the wrong decisions.

I knew that when we were seated side by side, in front of our adviser, and she told you everything I told her.

"I was just joking. She knew that, right?" You stared into my eyes, and the look you gave me was anything but vile. I almost believed you didn't mean all of the things you've been saying, I almost thought I was imagining all I've been through and felt, I almost believed that I'm the one making up lies to ruin you.

It's as if our roles were reversed, and you were the victim.

I couldn't speak.

"I always say sorry, even if I'm just joking. You know it's nothing serious. Right?" You touched my shoulder, as if to visually imply that we've always been on good terms and I just lost my head at one joke I couldn't handle. "I'm sorry if my last joke offended you. Are we good now?"

I couldn't say anything, my throat was dried shut, so I opted for a nod.

Our adviser didn't miss the smile of relief you gave me, but failed to notice the weight of your hand keeping my blood on it's tracks.

You always make the wrong decisions.

You said that after our adviser left, and your smile dropped into a sneer. "Another one and you're dead."

And with that, you exited the room with a scowl on your face, and my head against the floor.