Joe Goldberg is beginning to wonder if there's any more decent people in the world. With both Candace and Beck out of the picture, he's feeling lonely and starting to give up on love. That is, until Leila comes sobbing into Mooney's. Fragile and vul...
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"M a r k ! Leila! Open the fuck up! Now!"
God, what the hell am I doing? It's three-o-fucking clock in the morning, my hair's a mess, I don't even want to think about the mascara streaking all the way down my face, and I just ran thirty FUCKING minutes to get to Mark and Leila's place in shoes that are clearly made for fashion and not exercising.
Fucking hell.
"Mark! I swear to God! You better fucking open this goddam door or so help me-" my voice trails, warping off into the night. It's a high and annoying sound even on my better days, but now...now I just- I sound like a fucking child! Whining. Begging for attention.
Shit.
This isn't a good look for me. It really, really isn't.
And I'm shaking. This fragile little body of mine does NOT handle anxiety well at all. I look like a fucking tweaker! And to the randos living in this apartment, that's exactly what I am. Just another drugged-out white girl looking for her next fix.
I hate myself.
I hate every thing about myself.
How desperate I am to get inside, to run to her bed, hug her. Make sure she's okay.
But this door...this FUCKING bullshit door won't move!
My knuckles are starting to hurt from pounding on the metal monstrosity. But I can't stop myself. I just keep pounding. Beating it like it's my personal vendetta.
On and on.
Rapidly.
Relentlessly.
Almost rhythmically.
Why am I doing this?
Why?
"Mark-" I choke out his name feeling tears welling up in my eyes. I'm going to fucking cry, I just know it. I hate fucking crying, my body betrays me and I feel a warm one slip right down my cheek. "Leila-"
Energy drains and gravity pulls on my legs.
I want to collapse, I'm exhausted.
But I have to see her face. I have to know she's okay. That she's safe and nothing is terribly wrong.
I'm insane for doing this.
I'm insane for always leaping to worst-case scenarios. But can you blame me? I mean, really? The girl'd be dead by now if it weren't for me jumping in and saving the day like I always do.
