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But what about last night?

That’s the question I want to ask out loud. What about the care he gave me? What about the way he wrapped his arms around me and told me I was safe?

That wasn’t fake. That wasn’t rage.

I want him to know what I felt when I was in his hold and how real it was.

I should be smarter. I should understand that this week is not a task of our own choosing. That it’s something imposed on both of us. We’re not here for each other. We’re not here to fix anything, and I need to get that into my thick skull. Fabien’s made it clear enough.

I used to daydream about our future, back when I was a naïve teenage girl with a big imagination. I daydreamed about a world with no dead parents, no outside pressures, and no Castaways. Just me with that grieving boy who somehow understood me.

But in real life, here and now, Fabien rolls over, his back now facing me. The sheets feel cold now. The mattress shifts under his weight.

He’s solid rock now. I’m just a wave that uselessly crashes against them.

Fabien reached out last night and tonight, but he pulled back when we were too close to something real.

I caused him so much pain, and he might never forgive me.

I try to fall asleep, but I can’t stop the guilt consuming my thoughts.

DAY FIVE

30

JOLIE

He’s already gone by the time I open my eyes in the morning, just like yesterday. There’s no message left on my phone, no note left on the empty, cold pillow.

The sheets on his side are pulled back.

Fabien likes to disappear without a word, doesn’t he?

I get out of bed and check myself in the bedroom mirror. I’ve got defeat written all over my face. My eyes are puffy and my skin looks like life has been sucked out of me. Christ, I’ve aged like twenty years in the span of five days.

This week has really gotten to me, huh?

So many memories have resurfaced in these past few days... and Steven’s fucked me... and... and...

Even now, in the bedroom, I’m disconnected from my own body. I feel like a ghost, with just a whisper of my true self fluttering through this empty shell.

It’s all coming to a head. One of us is going to explode. It’s inevitable.

And he still has to take my virginity.

No, don’t think about that.

I head into the kitchen and try to make myself a coffee, but the effort is too much, so instead I sit on the penthouse balcony overlooking Central Park and close my eyes. I try to blank my mind, but...

That email. I should never have sent it. I was...

“Manipulated.”

I can say the word out loud now.

Because I didn’t want to send that email. Not really.

But he made me. Not Fabien, but him. I remember being sat down and told to press that send button. A cold command across a large table. I remember my fear as my finger hovered over the keyboard, being made to write those hurtful words, even though I begged him. I remember my teenage confusion. I was so young then, and under so much pressure.