This isn't weird.

Make It Okay

Ben had all day to ruminate on what he would say to Millie, but when evening fell and the time came to make his way to her apartment, he hadn't come up with much beyond hello. Somehow, that didn't make him nervous—in fact, he was oddly calm, overall. Maybe he didn't have the perfect words prepared, but improvising was sort of his thing, and he finally felt ready to talk about everything that had happened between them, without expectations or fear. All else aside, Millie was still his best friend. Regardless of whether or not she reciprocated his romantic attachment, he needed her to know that he was devoted to her first and foremost as a friend, unconditionally, always. Climbing the stairs toward her apartment, he truly believed that no matter how the conversation went, everything would be okay.

That changed abruptly as he approached the door.

There was an alarming amount of noise coming from within—a continuous stream of vicious shouting. Despite their volume, the words were impossible to make out through the door. After a few seconds of hesitation, he raised a fist and knocked. When the door swung open, it was Tess standing in front of him, looking wide-eyed and deeply disturbed. "Ben!" she whispered. "Thank god you're here."

Well, those were words he had never imagined coming out of Tess's mouth.

"Something is happening," she continued, and sidestepped to let him in. The yelling became clearer. It was definitely Millie—it was coming from her room—but he had never heard her voice sound anything like that before. It was venomous, guttural, the sound of pure rage. He moved toward her door.

"—ME? IT HAS TO BE FUCKING ME? YOU'RE THE ONE WHO FUCKING DID THIS TO HER—"

Ben and Tess looked at one another.

"NOT YOUR FUCKING PROBLEM? YOU'VE BEEN HER FUCKING PROBLEM FOR THE LAST FIFTEEN FUCKING YEARS—WHERE THE FUCK IS EVERYONE ELSE IN ALL THIS?—WELL, NO FUCKING SHIT YOU WORTHLESS PIECE OF SHIT ASSHOLE, THAT'S BECAUSE YOU FUCKING CHASED THEM ALL THE FUCK AWAY WITH YOUR SCUMMY, WORTHLESS, LOWLIFE BULLSHIT—"

Her voice was getting louder, the ratio of profanity to standard vocabulary rapidly increasing. Ben tried the doorknob. It was locked.

"Millie?" he called. She didn't seem to hear him. 

"—CRAZY? DON'T YOU FUCKING DARE CALL HER CRAZY, YOU FUCKING HUMAN SHIT STAIN—YOU CAN FUCKING ROT IN FUCKING HELL, YOU FUCKING WORTHLESS, PIECE OF SHIT CUNT!"

Something hit the wall with a loud crack; Ben was certain it was her phone. It was followed by a series of loud crashes and the shattering of glass. He twisted at the doorknob again, calling her name, and when no response came, he grabbed his wallet from his pocket and took out his credit card. Sliding it into the doorframe, he carefully wedged it between the spring bolt and the strike plate until the lock unlatched. The door popped open, and he tentatively poked his head inside.

Millie stood shaking in the center of the room, her hands squeezed into fists, her jaw clenched tightly shut. She was panting, her shallow exhalations vibrating like a low growl. Her face was deep red and her eyes were wild and distant, full of fire. Everything in the room that was breakable was scattered across the carpet in a mess of shards.

"Millie!" he exclaimed, rushing toward her. She didn't show any signs of having heard him; she seemed almost catatonic in her rage. He grabbed her face in his hands and turned it up toward his. "Millie—look at me. Hey, look at me, Mills, I'm here. Millie, listen to me, Millie, you're okay. We'll make it okay. I'm here. Just come back."

She let out a slow, shaky breath as her eyes began to focus. "Ben," she murmured, voice raspy from screaming. "Close the door."

Ben looked back at Tess, who was hovering nervously in the doorway. She gave him a small nod and stepped back, and Ben stepped away from Millie just long enough to close the door. "What's going on?" he asked as he turned back toward her.

Millie was taking off her clothes.

"I'll tell you later," she replied, dropping her shorts on the ground. "What I need from you right now is to fucking destroy me."

"Woah!" Ben stumbled back in surprise as she grabbed the front of his jeans and began undoing his belt. "Are you sure this is the right time—" Uninterested in what he had to say, Millie was already dragging him to the bed by his waistband, shoving him back onto the mattress. "Millie, are you sure—" he tried again as she straddled him and tore at the buttons of his shirt.

"Ben," she said tersely as she pulled his shirt open, "please just shut the fuck up and choke me."

Ben didn't know what else to do, so he did.