Neamhchiontach.
Caleb's breath is warm against my forehead. His head is bent down against mine and I am frozen in place. Wanting so badly to run but wanting to stay, too.
Ten days interest is going to cost you. He says it softly, voice breaking on the cost part. Every day that goes by means you're going to pay dearly.
His birthday was on the third and we celebrated as a big family. As always. As always, it wasn't enough.
I struggle out of his embrace, tears streaming. My voice is caught in my throat, choked out by sudden insolence. Just pretend it's a year we aren't together and you'll be fine. I wipe my cheeks, trying to find the rage to replace the fear. Trying to be stubborn and hold my ground when it's an avalanche. He holds firm and I give up my fight, waiting for the dead (or the living) to rescue me. Not wanting to rescue myself. I don't want to be the bad guy in my own story. I just want him to stop keeping score. I'm not a game. There are no points to be had, here. He lost before he knew he was a player but he refuses to concede.