He pulls a hand from his pocket and aggressively taps the side of his head with bared teeth. “It’s Bernadette. She’s in my head all the fucking time. Every single thing I do, I hear her voice, smell her fucking perfume and feel her nails clawing into my skin. I’m trying so damn hard to push it all aside and be good enough for you.” He eats up the distance between us, making my pulse race. “I. Don’t. Know. How.” I fight tears, seeing into his abused soul through the deadliness of his eyes.
