He keeps talking. Just talking. Words pouring out of his mouth, and I've heard half of them before. I want to blank it all out, just nod vaguely, but my mind has a perverse need to listen sharply, to catch every word. He thinks he's being helpful. You keep repeating yourself! I want to say. Over and over. Same words. Same thoughts. He wonders why I seem so unstable in decisions, so contradictory, but when he poses question after question after question, I begin to question everything myself. I interlace my fingers and hold them over my mouth, biting into the knuckle of my thumb, increasing the pressure until I can't take it, and then I re-lace my fingers and latch onto the other thumb.

Finally, he quits speaking, distracted. I take my moment and slip away into the dark. When I'm safe, for now, I stare at the rough oval of red marks around my knuckles. It is this pain or avoiding the anger following my outburst. For now, I have chosen this.