LEON
I lie on my back, staring at the ceiling, and sleep refuses to come anywhere near me.
It's been two hours since I closed myself off in this room, and in those two hours I haven't stopped seeing her face. The image in my head is not the angry version of her, the one that was screaming at me in the parking lot and demanding answers I was too angry to give.
The image in my head is the face that came after, the one that stared back at me as everything I tried to bottle up inside me cracked open and a single tear slid down her cheek before she could stop it.
I close my eyes, and the image is still there.
I shouldn't have said it. Any of it. I knew the words were going to break her the moment they left my mouth, and I said them anyway, because some part of me wanted them to break her
