“You don’t get to decide how I live.” How the fuck did we get here? “The way I’ve coped has been working for years, I’m fine. I don’t need your fucking empathy!” I can’t look at him. I can’t see his face lined with frustration or anger or empathy right now. “Since this is going nowhere, I’ll talk to you tomorrow. I hope you can sleep. Call me if you need to.” His voice is softer than I expected. He’s obviously upset with me but trying to be the bigger person. “I lo-” “Don’t!” I bark the word at him and it echoes in the empty locker room, severe and full of fear. There’s no way what he was
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