F O U R

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"george? Are you alright?"

"hey! buddy, you're back!"

"don't ignore my question!
you suddenly just hung up
yesterday!"

"aw, were you worried?"

"george!"

"sorry, sorry. yeah, I'm alright.
I was just going through a
rough patch yesterday."

"is there something you're
not telling me? i've literally called
when I was looking to off myself—
i'm not the one to judge."

"..."

"george."

"i didn't get beat up yesterday.
I didn't take my meds yesterday and..."

"hey, if you don't want me to
know, that's fine. i just don't want
you thinking you can't be real with me."

"no, I listened to you, so you have to
listen to my bullshit now, buddy."

"then tell me."

"I didn't take my meds yesterday
and then my dad's group of friends
came over. mom hates them."

"..."

"and there's this one friend. He...He
used to come into my room at
night—when he would stay over."

"george..."

"he used to play with me at night.
if I was his good little boy then
I could get a treat. Mom never
liked him—always glared at him and
then looked at me in a weird way.
But he left for a while and I guess
I forgot what the reality of it all was."

"george."

"he came back yesterday. he came
into my room yesterday. and i feel so
 fucking dirty. i took three fucking
showers and i can't seem to get it off."

"get what off?"

"the feeling of his fucking hands on me.
i need to get all this filth off
of me. I'm dirty."

"no you aren't."

"yes, buddy, yes I am. I'm filthy.
I'm dirty—and I can't be
clean anymore."

"george, you are not filthy. hey, 
listen to me. whatever that man has done
to you doesn't define who you are
or what you are. you're just george—
stupid george that always calls late
and begs me for attention."

"you're precious, bud—so fucking
precious."

"you are too, george."

"yeah? am I really?"

"yeah. yeah you are."

"fuck, i think i love you."

click

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