I hate Callum the most when he’s cold, stiff, robotic. When he walks past me in the hallway like I’m not even there. When he sleeps next to me in bed without holding me, without even touching me. When I drive him into a rage like this, when he finally cracks and loses control . . . that’s when I don’t hate him. In fact, I almost like him a little. Because that’s when I see a little more of myself. When he has a temper. When he’s angry. When he wants to kill somebody. That’s when I understand him. That’s when we finally have common ground.
