Pitbabe S2, Chapter 23 pg 4

 Pitbabe S2, Chapter 23 pg 4

   “I’m serious, Babe,” I lowered my voice, looking into his eyes earnestly. “I’m sorry for getting mad and saying harsh things in front of others, but what I said—I meant it. It’s not just because we’re broken up. Even if we were still together, you wouldn’t have the right to tell me what I have to do.”

   “I didn’t say you have to do anything. I said you can’t do certain things.”

   “Babe—”

   “That’s true.”

   “You can’t stop me, Babe.”

   “Charlie, I know you don’t like this kind of thing, but right now, I’m not talking to you with reason. I’m speaking purely from my feelings,” Babe said, his voice carrying the same intensity for the first time. He was serious, resolute in his words. He looked at me, his gaze piercing so deeply it felt like he could see the soul hidden inside, conveying his emotions with such profound clarity that I could no longer deny them. “Call it ordering you if you want, but if you expect me to just stand by and watch you risk your body, your life like that, I can’t do it. Can you understand me, Charlie?”

   I’ve always understood him. Even now, I understand perfectly.

   “How hard do I have to be to not feel anything when you do crazy things like this? How mature do you expect me to be?”

   “Babe, I know you’re worried, but…”

   “Worried?” Babe’s emotions seemed to flare up again, his brows knitting tightly even as we still held hands. “It’s not just worry, Charlie. I’m scared. Do you understand what fear is? You know better than anyone what I’m most afraid of in this life, yet you still do this. Why? Don’t you care about my feelings at all?”

   Looking back at all my past actions, it’s no surprise Babe would ask that. I’ve done things so infuriating they’re practically unforgivable, yet Babe has forgiven me time and again, as if he’s reserved an endless “idiot quota” for me, like a Santa gift bag that never fills up. I know he’ll be hurt, but I still do it. I’ve drunk his tears instead of filtered water, fed on his blood and flesh until I’m full for the three years we’ve been in each other’s lives. From any angle, it’s clear I haven’t even bothered to consider his feelings.

   I wish that were even half true.

   If I could choose, I’d want to dull some of the feelings I have for him—or, if it’s not too much, cut them out entirely. That would make everything so much easier, instantly. I could protect him like a hired bodyguard, not a loyal dog. Even if I messed up, it wouldn’t hurt as much. I wouldn’t have to live in constant fear of losing him, like I do now.

   “What does your silence mean?” Babe demanded, his voice sharp. I understood his frustration—talking to someone as dense as me isn’t exactly pleasant. “Does it mean you’re still not going to listen to me, no matter what?”

   The answer is “yes,” but I didn’t know how to say it without making him angrier.

   “Sometimes, I really don’t understand you, Charlie,” Babe said suddenly, his voice softening, as if he was exhausted from trying to decipher a tightly sealed book like me. “I feel like you love me so much, but sometimes it’s like you don’t love me at all.”

   A good lover would never plant questions like that in the mind of the person they love.

   “So, which is it, really?”

   This was the clearest, truest answer to why we should break up.

   “I think you already know, Babe.”

   “Stop answering like that, Charlie,” Babe said, yanking his hand away, refusing to let me touch him anymore. “Stop assuming I know, that I understand everything. I don’t understand. I’m not as smart as you.”

   “It’s not about being smart or not.”

   “Then maybe it’s you who never really wanted me to understand.”

   I couldn’t deny it right away because even I wasn’t sure of the answer. Common sense says everyone wants to be understood. No one likes being misunderstood or having to explain the same thing over and over only to find it’s pointless. But with me and Babe, I wasn’t sure what I wanted. Maybe he was right—deep down, I didn’t want him to understand me; I just wanted him to trust me unconditionally.

   I don’t want it to be like that. Please, let it not be true.

   “I’m sorry I can’t do what you asked,” I said, trying to give him a pleading look, as if I hadn’t been arrogantly mouthing off to him for the past hour. “But I’ve looked at it. If we don’t remove the sense now, Jeff’s condition will get worse. It’ll definitely affect his life. It’s already starting today. You saw it too, didn’t he? The fact that Jeff isn’t too badly hurt is already a stroke of luck.”

   “If the sense can’t stay with Jeff, how can it stay with you?”

   “At most, just until I figure out how to neutralize it.”

   “And if you can’t?”

   “It has to work.”

   “Nothing in this world is a hundred percent,” Babe said in a stern tone, like a mafia boss using his intimidating presence to force an enemy into submission. “You said it yourself—especially with things like this, no one can guarantee it’ll definitely work.”

   “I can guarantee it.”

   “Don’t be so stubborn, Charlie.”

   “I’ve been with it from the start. I know exactly what I’m doing.”

   “Then tell me there’s not even a 0.000001 percent chance you could be wrong.”

   This was a situation I never imagined would happen. Suddenly, it felt like the person arguing with me wasn’t Babe.

   “And give me credible evidence why it’s impossible to be wrong, because your word alone doesn’t carry that much weight.”

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