Huh.

“I didn’t come after you,” he says.

“What?”

“Tonight… I wasn’t stalking you. I was… I…”

He scuffs his feet, kicking bits of plastic.

“Just now, you asked me to kill you… but then…”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” she says softly.

“What do you want to talk about, Cassie!?”

He feels an angry steam building within him, a rising pressure, a fury that he can’t find the source of. He hasn’t felt this conflicted, this frustrated, this… directionless.

“Come on,” he barks, grabbing her thin wrist. Their feet clang loudly on the metal staircase, echoing unevenly off concrete walls. She stumbles; He pulls her roughly up. Climb.

“Fuck,” he cries. Rusted sheet metal. Sliced knee. Ignore. Climb. Step after wincing step until they reach the top.

He glares at the padlocked door. Kicks it. Slams his fists against it, splintered wood tearing knuckles. He lets out a frustrated cry, throwing his shoulder into it. The door groans. He groans.

Adam slumps against the door, defeated, directionless.