What the fuck was wrong with me? Of all people, I should know how hard talking about your own crap is. The guys were just being protective and, well, guys; they always had to fix things. I rested my chin against my knees, watching the trees move in the breeze. I wasn’t a problem they could fix. They couldn’t stop the memories from tearing me apart. I wanted to go home, I didn’t want to go back in there and face them.
