It's true. There's something about me that draws them in and then kills them. There's only one thing I know of that does that and I swear to God I was born on this planet, in a sleepy little town by the Atlantic. I swear I didn't know.
I say all this to Sam and he doesn't laugh or even act surprised. He's angry at me and angry at Caleb and concerned about Ben, who was unceremoniously asked to leave yesterday.
Because Caleb wasn't about to let him slide, even though I can be a provocative little fuck when I want to be, apparently I was not at the time and Ben just got scared and put his ego there in place of his heart, acting stupid.
I have been campaigning for his return ever since and wound up compelled to spend last evening with the devil, lest Ben's return take that much longer.
Of course it's coercion. And yes, I did whatever it takes. Ben will understand. He'd encourage it so he could watch. He'd film it in his brain and then plead innocence instead of debauchery, the way we all do. It's how Things Are Done.
I wish my kryptonite affected Caleb. He said it does, that his patience has already worn thin and his heart is malfunctioning. All that does is make me cling harder. Sam just rolls his eyes as I relate all of this to him and asks me to consider the thought that they are all projecting blame onto me because it's easier to pour it over me and watch me drown in their failed dreams than stand idly by as they admit they are sometimes less than human, that they fail.
It's easy blaming the one person who can't defend herself.
It's easy pointing fingers.
But I'm not doing that. They are men. Human men. Mostly good humans, even Ben. Caleb figured that instead of aligning with my loyalties he would simply cut out the middle man with the first excuse he could grasp, a brass ring of opportunity at a midway horror show.
The exciting part here is that I would think nothing of packing up every single person here, Henry included and bailing on him. If Caleb balks I can just throw 1983 in his face and watch as it crushes him to a fine dust underneath it's weight. Watch him burn the way we've been doing for the better part of our lives.
Watch me bring it all home.
I gave him twenty-four hours to fix this shit and also apologize to me and to Loch for the lovely threats that saw me donning sugarbaby gear when I should have been putting on pajamas because I'm so sick I should never have had my feet on the floor this week at all. So shame on fucking EVERYONE.
