Page 52 of Under Fyre

What happened?

Nothing.

Not a single response.

Every time I log into the forum, my heart wants to pound its way out of my chest…and then stops beating when there are no new messages.

Impatient,impulsive,I sent Brent92 a picture of Charlotte in the cheerleader’s outfit.

A day later, I received a message that his account had been suspended.

Charlotte came to bring me coffee that afternoon. Found me hunched over my laptop, fingers in my hair, glaring at the device like it had done me a personal injustice.

In my mind, it had.

It hadn’t stopped me from sending those messages. It hadn’t warned against being so fucking impetuous.

We hadn’t made love in days—she was still bleeding, sex was off the table—and my frustration boiled over.

I shoved her away from me, needing space, needing air. She fell, hit her head against the bedpost.

I hurt her, because I forgot how fragile she is. How much Icarefor her. In that moment, she was just an object that had gotten in my way.

She got up immediately, stared at me with shock in her eyes. Then anger.

I left. Got in my truck. Drove into town.

Our supplies were dwindling. We needed vegetables, meat, alcohol.

That’s what I told myself.

That’s what I would have told her when I got back to the cabin.

I didn’t buy groceries.

Icouldn’t.

Not when I walked into the grocer and saw who was standing in the produce aisle inspecting a bright, red apple.

I don’t give over to fantasies. I’ve never had a psychotic break.

I guess I was overdue.

I mean…come on.

My family was murdered. Sodomized, humiliated, tortured. The fact that I hadn’t once slipped into psychosis is pretty astounding.

I’ve never done hard drugs. I smoked weed a few times in college. Booze is my vice.

But in that moment? In that crystallized second of time when the man turned to look at me, and I looked at him? That’s when I suddenly understoodwhypeople would poison their minds and bodies with narcotics.

They want to escape reality.

They’re looking for a way out.

If only they knew that there isn’t one.

But I think everyone does know, at least to some extent.

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