“Don’t you get it?” I don’t want to say it, but I feel like I have no other choice. “The way you’re actin’ is pathetic, Bunk,” I spit out, trying to school my features into disgust, and it works from the way his face falls. “Get it through your thick head that I don’t want this shit with you.” His face falls, but not for long. His stubborn jaw sets as he glares. “You’re lyin’.” “I’m not.” “Yes, you are! Don’t fuckin’ lie to me! I hate it when people lie!” He snatches the glass ashtray from the coffee table and throws it against the wall, causing it to shatter. He's enraged, chest heaving. “But
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