The Degradation

Chapter 13 - part two

If you have diabetes, you take medication for diabetes. If you have hypertension, you take blood pressure medication. But as soon as you start taking psychotropic drugs, everyone around you reacts as if you don't deserve to be in the same room with them.

Hervé Bazin wrote: "Trust is always part of self-confidence." I trust him, but afraid of myself. – Harry

Song: Hurts – Stay

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I couldn't sleep all night. It's been six days since I've almost forgotten about sleep. After our conversation, I continued to lie on the bed, staring at nothing and thinking about him. I tortured my mind, trying to figure out how to tell him that I know everything. I wasn't in class today. I'm too tired. I'm not used to sleeping so little. On the contrary, I need a lot of hours of sleep to be in shape, but right now I can't. There are too many thoughts in my head. I have to talk to him. Now. I can't wait any longer. I do not want to. I'm afraid I won't have the courage if wait too long. He might get mad at me... I don't want to lose him. I spent hours trying to figure out how I would react if I were in his shoes. If he'd know so much about me. Badly. I would have reacted very badly. I would feel betrayed, and maybe that's why I'm so nervous. At 3 p.m., I get into the Lamborghini and repeat my rehearsed speech for the hundredth time. It's not difficult. You go there, knock on the balcony door, talk, and accept the consequences. I won't tell him everything. Only about the flash drive and Samantha. We'll save the medicine, blades, and scalpels for later. I can't talk about it. I know I should, but I can't. I still can't take responsibility for going through his bathroom. I have no right to do that, so I won't say anything. If he leaves me alone in his house, it's because he trusts me. And I can't lose his trust. I can't tell everything at once. It will be too much for him and me. At 3:25 p.m., I go up the alley that leads to his house. He told me to always park in the backyard, and that's fine with me, so I won't meet his father. Get up, knock, and talk. I sigh, gathering my courage before getting out of the car. Get up, knock, and talk. It's not difficult. Theoretically. I would have laughed if I hadn't been so worried. I climb the old stone stairs, skipping four steps at a time. The main thing is not to forget anything. I scratch the tip of my nose, closing my eyes. As long as he doesn't overreact. Speak and accept the consequences. Speak and accept the consequences. I repeat it so intensely in my head that I forget to knock. I push the glass door and walk quickly into the room, head down. The words themselves start to fly out at maximum speed. Half of what I say is incomprehensible nonsense. I can't stop talking. Everything I've been practicing all night has gone down the drain. But I can't stop the flow of words. Not now.

"I know about you and Samantha. You left your flash drive in my car that night, and I couldn't resist looking at what was on it, because I'm curious, and I'm also an idiot. Curious cretin. And I saw the photos, and I realized that she was your girlfriend and you were very beautiful in the photos, I've never seen you smile like that, and yes, I know I shouldn't have done that. But this is stronger than me, I even printed out one photo of you alone, and I keep it under my pillow. I'm a complete idiot, I know. You can mock me all you want, but please don't get mad. I just wanted to find out who Samantha is, and I know that she ki... That she killed herself and it must be hard for you... And I'm sorry. I'm sorry I found out about it like this, but this is stronger than me. Hell, I already said that. But I really needed to get to know you, because you never spoke to me, and neither did Anonym. I know you can tell me to go away with a clear conscience, but I don't want to go anywhere. So if you kick me out, I can stand outside your door until you take pity and let me back in. Or no, you don't have to let me in. Just lend me Asshole, and we'll both be sitting on the doorstep, so I'll be less lonely. Your voice. I listened to your song. Hell, I know it by heart. I know you want to kick me out now, not sing, but I love your voice and your song. At least it talks to me, but you don't. I shouldn't have invaded your privacy, but it's your fault, you shouldn't have left your flash drive in my car and never asked for it back! I'm an idiot who doesn't know what you can and can't do, and now you know I don't. Damn, does that expression even exist? It seems that everything I said is meaningless. It's your fault, not mine. You're distracting me... I have nothing to do with this! You came out of nowhere, turned my life around, and blew my mind. And this is worse than looking at the contents of some unfortunate flash drive. This is entirely your fault. What the hell am I talking about? Don't listen to me. Say something, don't let me embarrass myself any more, and... Forgive me."