He looks so small right now. Small and vulnerable as he curls over himself. I did that, I realize. He is now a shell of the boy I met way back in November. The boy with the weirdly harsh voice and the take-no-shit attitude. It’s like something crucial has been taken from him, and the realization that I did this—I broke him, the boy I once called my best friend—it shatters me. His hand comes up to wipe his face, and I don’t miss that he’s shaking.
