All the sweetness that used to slip from his wrinkled eyes was gone. Beneath the realistic, and yet utterly false sugar icing that he had previously hidden beneath, I could see fury, and envy, and... desolation.

"What are you talking about? Who is she?" I muttered, as I took a seat at the metallic table.

The table was the only thing that separated me from Abbey. I wasn't afraid to look at him in the eye, as I had expected. Peculiarly, the only factor of the situation that I found scary was myself. I knew I would strangle Abbey with my own hands if the police officer that had helped me to the room wasn't still standing there.

"Oh. She didn't tell you."

A giggle escaped my mouth before I could even process his answer.

"Look at me, Timothy." I said, and the extenuating force that my voice let out almost intimidated me. "I am not the naive girl that you got to know last year. There's nothing left of her."

He looked down, and the way he sighed transmitted a shy, subconscious spurt of regret. But I couldn't feel sorry for him, even if he was creased, and alone, and wearing a humiliatingly ugly pajama.

"There's nothing left of her, because innocence, and sweetness... were all corrupted by you. I came here looking for answers, and I won't leave with even more questions to disturb my sleep. So, now, tell me: Who the hell is she?"

He didn't answer.

"Is it Sophie?"

He looked up.

"I won't tell you, Tessa."

My heart started to pump faster, and I realized I was vigorously moving my feet against the floor.

"What do you mean, you won't tell me?"

He shrugged, and I could sense a playful smile starting to take shape in his dried out lips. He had found a way to feel better: Taking me back to torturous uncertainty.

My lungs were collapsing. I could feel my pulse in my neck, and in my ears. He was cruel, and mischievous, and despicable. He had wrecked my dream.

He had wrecked everything.

I jumped over the metallic table and punched his face. My knuckles hurt so much that I was convinced I had broken several fingers. But I didn't care. I punched him again, with my broken hand, with my broken soul. His chair run towards the wall.

"You wrecked my dream! You fucking wrecked my dream!"

I kept hitting him forcefully for what seemed like an eternity. I had never expected hitting another person would hurt that much. However, at that very moment when I couldn't breathe, and I couldn't see the sky behind the humid grey ceiling, it was what made most sense. An outburst of fury was never discharging, but an attack towards one's self. Painful. Maddening. A shortcut to our innermost, disconcerting fears.

"Miss! Stop!" the policeman said — Why had he taken so long? Or... hadn't he? —, and he grabbed me in a way that seemed far too easy to immobilize me that much.

"This girl is crazy." Abbey whispered, as the policeman tied my injured hands with handcuffs. "Constantly running after things that don't exist. Trying to solve her tiny narcissistic problems and blaming it on the world when it goes wrong."

"Shut up!" I shouted, and my lungs definitely collapsed and I fell to the concrete floor.

The following chapter is already up! I was originally going to make both this chapter and the next one a single one, but it turned out to be too long, so I split it in two. 

What did you think of Tessa's outburst? Would you have been as furious if you were her? Let me know in the comments! 

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