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"I have a compulsion," you explained, staring at his hand. "Compulsions." You had become utterly still, statuesque but for the movement of your lips. If not for the breath gently brushing across Marc's face, he would have thought you stopped breathing.
"I can't help it," you continued, distress choking your voice. "I try to stop it, but when the thoughts...they're called intrusive, I guess. I googled it once."
You sucked in a pained breathe, the clenched hands at your hips pressing into your thighs. "They pop up and I have to do things to make them go away. And sometimes the only way to do that is to steal something. But..." You shook your head. "But those are different, actually. The stealing ones, I mean. They tell me I have to steal something or else."
Steven fronted again. "Or else what?"
"Just 'or else.' I don't expect you to understand."
Marc this time: "So, you're a kleptomaniac."
"Look, I don't want to steal, okay? It's wrong, and I try to stop." You jerked your eyes up to Marc's, stared wildly at him. "You have to believe me, okay? I try. I try so hard, and sometimes I can stop it, but sometimes I can't."
"Like with the wallet."
"I didn't want to hurt Steven, so I gave it back. But if my night hadn't gone to hell, I would've spent the rest of the night freaking out because of that. Because my brain would keep telling me I should have kept it. Or else."
Steven took over, gently patted your knee. Your attention dropped back down to his hand, the wild look on your face easing, soothed. "I sometimes have to do it, and now it's come to bite me in the ass."
