I glance at my cell phone, and it takes all of my strength not to pick it up. I force myself to look back at my journal, and I grit my teeth in frustration. My hand moves toward the phone again, but I jerk it back and clench my fists tightly, turning my knuckles a brilliant shade of white. I can’t pick up that phone, because if I do, I know I’m going to end up bothering Trace with a bunch of shit he doesn’t need to deal with while he’s on vacation. With my luck, if I did call he would probably start to worry too much about Kerri and me and end up coming home tomorrow or something. I can’t have him do that, I refuse to let him do that. For one, Elisha is my friend too and I don’t want her to feel like I took Trace away from her again. But…I really need to talk to somebody. Yeah, somebody that gets me. I know I can call Madison back, she even told me I could; but there’s only so much she can do to console me. She’s trying to get me back to the person I used to be before the Butt Sex, but she doesn’t know what I was like then. She doesn’t know how carefree I was or how much I loved my friends and family. And she certainly doesn’t know that Kerri was the love of my life. She only knows the basics. That Kerri and I were best friends, until we slept together and ruined it. And until I reach that level of normalcy again, a part of me will always feel insecure talking about my Kerri problems with her. That’s why I wish Trace was here, because he already knows everything and he always has the solution to my problems.

But Trace can’t be here, and for the first time since he left I’m starting to realize that this little vacation of his is more of a test than anything else. He’s trying to see if I can do it. If I can be my own person, and if I can handle myself with Kerri so close by. If I can make it through this week without losing my mind, I think it will put him and everyone else involved at ease. Because if I can handle this, another major tour shouldn’t be a problem. And I have to tour, if I want to keep myself sane.

After I took my shower, I went back into my room because I didn’t want to run into Kerri again. But I’m paying the price now, because I’m starving. I hate to be hungry. When we were locked in that basement I was so hungry I thought I was going to die. So now, whenever I feel the slightest bit famished I make sure I eat. I never ever want to feel like I felt in that place again. But if I go downstairs…I know I’m going to have to face Kerri if I want to have some real lunch. I mean, I can’t open a can or anything; she’d have to do it. Christ, I feel like I’m five years old, and it’s embarrassing. With Trace it’s not so bad because he understands, but what about Kerri? Doesn’t this make her feel like a baby sitter or something? I’m a grown ass man…I shouldn’t have to ask people to do things for me. Maybe I’ll just put up with what I can make by myself for now, so I don‘t have to talk to Kerri. I could have cereal or oatmeal or something. Ooo or ice cream. I could go for some of that chocolate peanut butter stuff in the freezer. Yeah.

My craving forces me to pull myself out of bed, and I quickly flick the television off before I venture out into the hallway and down the stairs. I half expect to find Kerri sprawled out on the sofa when I go into the living room, but she’s not there. I pause, and listen for some kind of sign that she’s in the house, but I don’t hear her. I don’t hear anything…the whole house is eerily silent, and then my anxiety starts to kick in. I start to breath a little heavier, nervous that I’m suddenly more alone in the house than I thought. I really don’t like being alone anymore. Not ever since Shane separated Kerri and I. I’m afraid something bad is going to happen to me. What exactly, I don’t know, because there’s nothing here that can hurt me. This is my house, and it’s been secured as well as Fort Knox. I’m getting a new security system installed this week too. Trace knows about it, and he doesn’t want me to get it, because it’s one of those crazy high tech things that they use on big buildings and stuff. He says I’m being too extreme, but I beg to differ.

There’s nothing wrong with having a little extra security.

I make my way into the kitchen, hoping that Kerri is sitting at the table or something so I won’t feel so insecure anymore…but of course she’s not in here either. “Kerri,” I call out.

No answer.

I sigh. Ice cream. Ice cream will calm me down. I open up the freezer and pull out the carton. Then I open up the silver drawer to get a spoon. I sigh when I look down into it. It’s a big silver tray, and there’s nothing in it but a few metal spoons and some plastic forks and knives. All of my good stuff is locked away. I guess it depresses me, because it’s my stuff and I can‘t use it at my own free will. But then I suck in a breath, grab a spoon, and tell myself it’s for the best. I start to shut the drawer, my mouth watering for some sweet peanut buttery goodness…

But then I see it.

The point is shiny and sharp, and I feel myself growing weaker by the second. It’s a corkscrew. The curly kind with the sharp tip that you twist into the cork. It’s made of polished stainless steel, and it’s calling out to me. I can make it better. But I can‘t let it take over me…I can‘t. I slam the drawer shut, and turn my back to the counter. Why is it in there? Why? Trace wouldn’t have missed it. I know he spent a good two hours securing the kitchen, and the drawers were the first thing he took care off. That only leaves Kerri. And why would Kerri have needed a corkscrew? There’s no alcohol in the house, not anymore at least.

I’m so confused, and I’m tempted…I’m so tempted to open that drawer up again…

No.

What’s the first step Justin? I hear Madison’s voice in the back of my mind, and I swallow hard.

“The first step is to recognize that I need help,” I respond.

“Get my Lifeline involved.”

Right. Get help. Kerri. Kerri has the keys, and she can lock the corkscrew away…far away so I can’t hurt myself again. I need to find her. And I’m positive that she’s not in the house, so the only alternative is to look outside for her. I slide the glass door open and walk out onto the deck. I’m tense, sweating, and my breathing is rapid and heavy. It’s taking every ounce of strength I have inside of me to do this, and god…I hope I don’t turn back. I survey the backyard, hoping that she’s close by and not out at the basketball courts or anything. But then my gaze lands on the hammock and I see her lying there. She looks so calm, so relaxed, and I’m happy that she’s gotten over this morning so quickly.

I jog down the steps, and start to make my way across the yard and over to her. I fiddle with my hands, and the bottom of my t-shirt, running through what I need to say to her. I don’t’ want to cut myself Kerri. But then…squish. I feel my shoe and sock become soaked and I look down to see a reddish liquid trailing from my feet all the way up to where Kerri is. Blood is the first thought that comes to my mind. And the thought that it’s Kerri’s blood hits me all too soon. “Kerri!” I scream, and bound towards her. She doesn’t react and it only brings my state of panic to the next level. “Kerri!” I shake her as soon as I’m close enough to touch her, and the tears start to glide down my face in long, thick trails. “Kerri! Wake up!”

And then she laughs.

“Eee!! Stoppp it!!”

I fall backwards and land on my backside. I’m trembling. I’m still not sure what’s happened. I look up at her, and she’s still giggling. No, she’s not dead. “Thank god,” I gasp. I get up and lean over her.

“Kerri…Kerri are you okay?”

“Silly,” she laughs and pokes me a little. “I’m wonderful!”

Her breath smells sweet, like raspberries or something., That’s when I realize…the liquid in the grass isn’t blood at all. Kerri’s been drinking, and I have no idea how or when she got her hands on the stuff. Trace threw it all out. Hell, I saw him tossing the bottles. What the hell? It’s 1130 in the morning for God’s sake. How can she be drunk? I look down, and I can see a bottle lying in the grass beside the hammock. It has a bit of the red stuff left in it, and the ants have already started their feast on the sweet liquid. I almost bend down to pick it up and see what it is, but then I remember it’s glass…and I remember why I needed to find Kerri in the first place.

“Kerri, I need you to come in the house.”

“I got you a present,” she slurs, and holds the cork from the bottle in the air. “It’s pretty.”

“Yeah,” I whimper. “Come on.”

“Mmmm,” she groans. “I want to sleep.”

“You can’t sleep!” I yell. “I…there’s something in the house, Kerri.”

She sits up a little. “You’re a pain in my ass.” She tries to sound serious, but she only ends up smiling in the end. She sits up and moans a little. “Dizzy,” she giggles.

I help her to her feet, and we walk back to the house together. I have to keep my arm draped over her shoulder the whole way there, so she won’t fall over. Once we get inside she flops down into one of the chairs at the kitchen table, and puts her head in her hands without so much as a thank you to me. She can only complain that her head hurts and that she’s tired. I’m disgusted with her right now. How could she be so irresponsible? Trace trusted her, and so did I. Yeah, so maybe I could have been a little more rational in the bathroom, but she shouldn’t be taking my feelings so personally. She knows what happened to me, and she knows that I don’t like to be touched and looked at.

I think back to a few weeks ago, and I remember…I remember what Trace told me. It was a few days after I‘d come home from the clinic. My mom had been in town, and since they hadn’t really had the chance to talk since the kidnapping; she’d taken it upon her self to bring Kerri out to lunch. I guess that’s why Trace felt comfortable sharing something so personal about Kerri with me, even though I was, and still am, too stubborn to believe him.

“I think Kerri might be going through something,” he’d told me.

I practically laughed at him. “Of course she is. We were kidnapped, remember,” I’d reminded him.

“No,” he shook his head roughly. “That’s not it. I just…when we were in New York I found out some stuff and--”

“What stuff?”

But he just shrugged, and I knew that whatever it was, wasn’t something that Kerri wanted being spread around. “Just, all I’m saying is--I think we need to watch out for her. That’s all.”

The smarter part of me is telling me that Kerri has a drinking problem…a big one. But I just, I won’t believe it. Because if I do, it will mean that she’s not capable of looking out for me while Trace is gone. And that…that would just scare the crap out of me. No, there is no problem. What happened was…was that she was stressed out, and decided she was going to drink her problems away. Or maybe it’s one of those psychological things. Maybe she thinks that if I start to worry about her I won’t have time to think about everything else. Well, she needs to understand that she’s wrong. I’m not going to worry about her, because I don’t have time to. It’s me who has the real problems. I’m the one with the career to worry about, and I’m the one who had sex with a fucking man. Damn it, she has a hell of nerve trying to set me back with this stuff.

She’s so selfish.

“You left the corkscrew in the drawer,” I finally tell her.

“Boo hoo.” She sticks her tongue out at me, and tries to stagger to her feet but she only falls back down onto the chair. “Itssnot my fult,” she slurs.

I have to suck in a breath to keep from screaming at her. “Just get rid of it,” I grunt. “It’s not supposed to be here, and you know that.”

She rolls her eyes. “I’m tired!” she wails. This time she manages to get to her feet. Then she stumbles out of the kitchen, seeming to have forgotten what the problem of the moment is. She…she doesn’t give a damn.

This is bullshit.

“Kerri!” I yell, and storm after her. But, when I get into the living room, she’s already passed out on the sofa. “Fuck,” I mutter. I want to shake her out of her sleep, and make her help me. She’s not going to get me to buy into her little act. She doesn’t have a problem…she doesn’t. It’s just a phase, that’s all. She’ll get over it in a couple of days. I sit down at the opposite end of the sofa. “Get up,” I grunt.

“Go ‘way,” she mumbles, and turns on her side so her back is toward me.

I sigh. I’m going to have to deal with this, until she recovers from her drunken state. I’m going to have to be strong for the next couple of hours. I can’t think about the corkscrew…I can’t think about the glass bottle lying in the yard. So what do I do? I’d turn the TV on, but I don’t want Kerri to be bothered, even though I‘m pissed at her. I’d write in my journal but…I just can’t do that with her being in the same room as me. Maybe I can read…yeah. I shuffle over to the bookcase, and grab a random book off of the shelf. The Great Gatsby. Oh. It’s one of those books that we bought for decoration. The binding is antique looking and it blends in with the paint on the wall. But hey…I’ll read it anyway. There’s nothing better than a classic right?

************

I think I managed to read the first three pages of The Great Gatsby, before the temptations started to grab hold of me again. I was stressed, panicked, and had nobody to confide in. It was so easy…the answer to my problems was lying in a drawer ten feet away. But I didn’t want to turn down that road again. I wanted to be the stronger person this time, so I forced myself to stay put. I gripped the arms of the chair so tightly, I think I might have left a permanent imprint in them. My fingernails…they’ve been chewed down to the skin. Every few minutes, the shakes will start and I’ll try to make them go away…but I can’t control them. I need help, I need to talk to somebody now, because I don’t know how much longer I can hold out against this horrible temptation. Hell, it’s been four hours since Kerri passed out on my sofa. And while it’s been really hard holding back, I’m almost proud of myself.

But in a few minutes I won’t be proud of myself anymore.

“Fuck it,” I mumble. I slowly get up from the overstuffed chair I’ve been sitting in, and look towards the kitchen. Then I look back at Kerri. She’s still sleeping ,and she still doesn’t’ care about me. I feel the tension pulling my emotions tighter and tighter. I think I might snap. I have to calm myself down, and…and there’s only one way to do that.

“It’s okay.” Shane appears in the doorframe separating the kitchen and the living room. “Just let it out, baby. I’ll be here when it’s over.”

I shake my head. “No…leave me alone,” I whisper, and place my hands at either side of my head. “You’re not real.”

“Oh no?” He saunters over to me, and puts one of his hands to my face, caressing it gently. “This feels pretty real to me.”

“Stop it!” I cry.

But he doesn’t listen. He pushes me to the floor, and stands over me. Then he starts to remove his belt, and flashes a sick, twisted smile at me. “I’ve been waiting for this for a long time, Justin.”

“Please,” I whimper. “Don’t do this.” I curl into a ball and shield my face with my hands. Then I start to cry, so hard that my whole body is shaking uncontrollably.

Then I feel his hands on me, and I scream…begging him not to do it to me again. “Please!” I cry. “Please don’t!”

“Justin…Justin it’s okay.”

But the voice isn’t Shane’s. It’s feminine, soft. I cautiously remove my hands from my face and look up at the figure standing over me. Kerri. I sit up a little bit, and look around for any sign of danger. “We have to get out of here,” I tell her. “They didn’t hurt you did they?”

She crouches down next to me. “Justin, what’s wrong?”

“Shh.” I pull her close to me, and slide myself in front of her so if Shane does come back, he’ll have to go through me before he can get to her. “I don’t know where he went…but he’s somewhere in this house.”

She cocks her head to the side. “Who?”

“Shane,” I whimper.

“Justin…” Her voice trails off and she shakes her head a little. “Shane can’t be here. He’s dead.”

“See that’s what he wants everybody to believe.” I jump to my feet and point a finger at her. “But he’s not. He’s still around and he still wants me, Kerri.”

She sighs, and starts to say something else to me; but then the phone starts to ring, breaking the moment. She picks up the portable phone on the end table. “Just hang on okay?” she tells me. “I have to answer.”

I cross my arms across my chest stubbornly. She doesn’t believe me. She thinks I’m a mental case. “Sure,” I grunt. “If you’re not too drunk.”

She rolls her eyes at me. “Hello? Oh!” Her enthusiasm is forced. “Trace, hey.”

His timing is horrible. I don’t want to talk to him right now, because I’m not in the mood to smile into the phone and pretend that everything is great. That this is truly turning out to be a bonding experience for Kerri and I, and that we’re going to live happily ever after. Because, that’s what I’m going to have to say to him. Stating the truth, would only bring disaster.

“Oh you know, we’re fine. It’s like old times,” she laughs into the phone, and I’m disgusted. I wonder if Trace can sense how fake she’s being right now. “So how is Barbados? Whale watching…really? Wow, I hope you took pictures.”

Since when did Kerri become interested in whale watching?

“Yeah he’s right here. I will, okay…yes Trace the pink pills in the morning I know I know. I’ll talk to you soon.” She covers the mouthpiece with her hand and looks at me finally. “He wants to talk to you.” And there is a look of doubt in her eyes. She thinks I’m going to ruin everything.

I’m not stupid. I can play the fake game too.

I take the phone from her, not hesitating to send her a cold glare first. “Trace?”

“Hey!,” he says enthusiastically. I can hear the roar of the ocean in the background, and I close my eyes, trying to imagine how nice it must be where he is. Not that Los Angeles isn’t nice. I mean, we have some killer beaches here. But it’s been so long since I’ve done anything like that, I’ve almost forgotten what it’s like. “What’s been going on?”

“Oh you know…the same old shit,” I force a laugh, and glance at Kerri quickly. She’s staring at me, and it’s making me uncomfortable so I decide to take my conversation into the other room. I use great caution as I move through the different rooms and hallways of my house. I’m still not convinced that Shane has retreated back to wherever he goes when he disappears. He could be lurking around a corner…hiding in a closet, just waiting…just waiting for his fucking chance. I finally find sanctuary in my downstairs guest room. I close the door and lean my back against it, so I can stop Shane if he tries to come in. I can still hear Kerri banging around in the kitchen and then I hear the sound of the kitchen door sliding open and then closing again. She’s gone outside, and part of me is worried that Shane might be out there. But I take a deep breath, and reassure myself that he‘s only out to get me and the only person I need to worry about, is myself.

“Justin, you there?”

Trace‘s worried tone snaps me out of my daze. “Oh yeah…sorry. How‘s Barbados?”

“Oh man, J. You should see it here, it’s incredible! Yesterday we went snorkeling, and I swear to you…the water is clearer here than it is in Hawaii. Elisha even petted a turtle,” he laughs.

“A turtle? Did you go to an aquarium?”

“No no. Like, when we were in the ocean a turtle swam by, and she caught it..” He informs me. “I got a great picture of it, with that underwater camera your mom got me for Christmas. I can’t wait to show you.”

“So things are good then,” I smile.

“Well…yeah,” he sighs. It’s almost a guilty sigh though. Like, he feels guilty that he’s on vacation having a great time while I‘m stuck at home. “I mean, it’s really beautiful and peaceful. It’s given Elisha and I a chance to talk and stuff…and it’s given me a chance to calm down a little.”

“That’s great Trace.”

“Justin…”

I rub my eyes with my hand. “Yeah?”

“Thanks for letting me do this.”

“I didn’t let you do anything,” I laugh softly. “It’s your life Trace. You shouldn’t have to be confined to the house because of me.”

“I haven’t been confined, Justin. Things happened, and I wanted to help. Things are turning around now though…at least I think they are. Right?”

I hate lying to him. “Yes,” I force out.

“And the whole Kerri thing isn’t making you uncomfortable?”

I swallow hard, but somehow I manage to respond with a small burst of laughter. “Maybe her cooking, and how she kicks my butt when we play poker. But like the other stuff…it’s fine.”

“Seriously?“

“Seriously,“ I reassure him.

He hesitates for a moment. “You wouldn’t lie to me would you?”

“Of course not. What do you take me for…I know the rules, Trace.” I say, a little too harshly.

“Sorry. I’m just saying…you know how things have been going and…”

“And what?” I snap. “I can’t handle being babysat by anybody else besides you?” I shouldn’t be acting this way. And I know I wouldn’t be, if Kerri had done the responsible thing and controlled her urges. It’s not Trace’s fault that Kerri is a psycho.

“Babysat?” He sounds hurt. “I didn’t know that was what I was doing, Justin. I thought I was helping you.”

“Look,” I huff. “I’m sorry okay? I’m just tired.”

Wrong answer.

“You’re tired?” His calm tone, has quickly jumped to a paranoid one, and I want to kick myself. “Why? Haven’t you been sleeping?”

“Yes I…”

“You’ve been taking your pills like your supposed to right?”

“Trace…”

“Because you know, I’ll get the next plane home if I have to. Damn it Justin, do you even know how much of a nervous wreck I’ve turned into out here? It’s taking everything in me just to put on a happy face for Elisha…shit, please don’t’ tell her that okay?”

I would tell him that he’s going to be a nervous wreck no matter where he is, but I won’t. I don’t want to upset him anymore than he already is. “Trace come on, you know you don’t want to come home. I’m sleeping fine, Kerri is fine, everything is fine okay? So just go get yourself a Pina Colada, and fall asleep under a palm tree.”

“A Pina Colada?” He starts to laugh, and I know my speech has reassured him a little. “You know I don’t drink that shit. It’s nasty.”

I almost let a genuine laugh escape me. But then I remember…drinks…Kerri, and why I was so stressed out to begin with. “You should get back,” I say quickly. “Elisha is probably wanting some Don Juan lovin’.”

“I’m not gonna go if you want to talk,” he tells me. “I’m here for you man.”

“Trace,” I groan.

“Okay, okay,” he sighs. “A guy can take a hint. But just…you know if there’s a problem and you need me I can come home…”

“Bye Trace,” I say, and hang up before he can talk himself into coming home. I put the phone down next to me, and hug my knees to my chest. I know I have to go back out there, but I really don’t want to. I don’t want to face her, and I don’t want to talk about why she was drunk. I don’t…I don’t want to yell at her anymore either, but I’m so angry. Kerri has never been the irresponsible one; that was always me. I was always the one who would do stupid things, and she was always the one who got me out of trouble. Even now, she’s here to keep me out of trouble.

I feel like I’m using her to be my live in maid for the week, and when Trace comes back I‘ll just go back to avoiding her all the time. I don’t trust anyone enough to hire them as a housekeeper. I’m afraid of people…that they might try to hurt me, or steal from me. So I just rely on my friends and family to take care of that kind of stuff. I guess I’m being a little selfish. Like, I know Trace says he doesn’t mind doing everything for me right now, but I still feel bad. He still has to plan the details of my tour, and set everything straight before I go back to work. And Kerri is supposed to be here to give him a hand, and I know that…but I won’t let her too close. It’s bad…really bad, because I know how much she sacrificed to do this. Why can’t I just be a man and face her? Why…I know why…

Because I’m not a man anymore.

Tap Tap. “Justin…please come out of there.”

The voice causes me to jump a little, before I realize that it’s just Kerri. But I don’t want to come out right now. I don’t want to face her, I don’t want to face what she did, and I don’t want to face Shane if he happens to come out of hiding. “I…I’m fine in here for now.”

“Justin, look,” she huffs. “I’m in charge, and you’re not supposed to be somewhere that I can’t see you. I’m sorry that I…that I got a little drunk before.”

A little drunk?

“But I’m fine now okay? I slept it off, and now it’s done.” Then she’s silent, and I know she’s waiting for me to either answer her or to come out and face her.

“Where did you get the wine?” I can’t help but be curious, because Trace was so adamant about getting the alcohol out of the house. Shit, what if it was…no, no she wouldn’t’ do that. Would she?

“I…I found it in Trace’s room.”

I think I’m going to hurl. I push myself up off the floor, and open the door. Kerri is looking down at the floor, and I think she might be about to cry but I have no remorse for her right now. “The wine on Trace’s dresser?” I grunt.

And she nods. “I…I’m sorry. Was it important?”

“Fuck yes!” I yell, and she cringes. “Do you even know…Kerri…it was special okay?” I shake my head roughly, and all the while my mind is screaming at me What are you going to do? You can’t get out of this one. “It was from this vineyard in Sicily. It was where he first told Elisha he loved her, okay? They only made like a hundred bottles of the stuff to begin with, and now the vineyard doesn‘t even exist anymore.”

And her mouth drops open. “Justin, I swear…I swear I didn’t know.”

“What the fuck were you thinking! You don’t just take people‘s things like that!”

But she doesn’t answer me. She turns on her heel and walks back down the hall. I’m so angry, that I follow her, and eventually we wind up back in the kitchen. The empty wine bottle is resting on the counter top, and Kerri immediately picks it up and reads the label. “It’s just wine,” she says pathetically. “We’ll get a different bottle, and he’ll never know the difference.”

“He’ll know,” I snap. “He’s not a fucking moron, Kerri. Christ, we’re in such deep shit right now, you have no idea.”

“He won’t know!” She screams the words at me, and walks over to the garbage can. She steps on the little lever to make the top open, and then she throws the bottle inside. I cringe when I hear the bottle crash against the bottom of the can, and shatter into a thousand pieces.

I know they‘re there. A thousand little pieces of glass just sitting there, calling out to me. I’m so stressed out right now, and once again…cutting myself seems like the best option. I hate this. I thought I was getting better, but I’m really not. If I had the chance, I probably would do it again and it’s just so fucking stupid that I want to hurt myself after everything Shane put me through. Haven’t I been through enough pain? “Get rid of it,” I whisper. “Please.”

After a few more moments, she stops looking down into the garbage can and then finally meets my gaze. “You’re so fucking selfish,” she mutters. “Something important to Trace is ruined, and all you can think about is ‘poor me, I might cut myself.’”

“It’s you fault it’s ruined!” I yell. “Now just…just get rid of the glass, Kerri! Get rid of it!”

“You know, if you’re too weak to stop hurting yourself it’s your own problem. Go ahead, bleed all over the place…nobody feels sorry for you anymore.” She lets the lid fall back into place, and storms away from me.

But I can’t follow her. My legs are weak, and I find myself sliding to the floor. “Kerri!” I scream. “Kerri don’t leave me alone! Please!” My eyes fly wildly to the garbage can, and back to her retreating form.

I cover my ears, and try to get Shane out of my head, but he just…he won’t leave. “Stop,” I whimper and curl into a ball. My eyes close. I can’t let him get the best of me…I just can’t. I have to be strong, I have to get through this on my own.

I hear something…jingling? Bells? What the hell? I slowly allow my eyes to open, and then I see Kerri again. She has a garbage bag in one hand, and she’s emptying the glass into it with a dust pan. “Kerri?,” I sob.

She looks up at me, but she doesn’t’ say anything. She looks angry, and I’m not sure why. Is she angry at me? Or angry at herself for bringing all of this about? She finishes emptying the glass into the bag, and she makes her way outside…leaving me to drown in my sorrows by myself. I whimper, then I sob a little…and now I’m crying again. I’m crying and I can’t stop. I think I hear her come back inside after awhile, but she doesn’t stop to comfort me. I know this is bad, I know if Trace knew about this he would be on the first flight back to Los Angeles. I could call him right now, and make him come back, but I won’t. I don’t want Kerri to think I’m weak like that. I want to be able to handle my problems on my own, and show her that I‘m not as weak as she thinks I am.

If I could just get myself to stop crying, maybe I could.

Guilty As Charged