"You left her lock up in a bathroom three years ago."
Just like I wanted, my voice came out flat and without feeling. Of course, I didn't want him to think I still cared. It seemed that my words struck home; he shifted uncomfortably in his seat while I took back my cap and pulled it down, covering my hair. "You left," I repeated again and continued to hold his gaze, knowing quite well that I wasn't as strong as I was making him believe that if he hadn't looked away first, I was seconds away from breaking. It did cross my mind once or twice that I could burst into tears any minute, and I for sure was an ugly crier. The awkward silence that followed opened up the overthinking gates and the what-ifs.
Relieving the past never got me anything, yet just by a few exchanges of words, I remember
