"I don't know why you're sorry. I burned the bridge. I burned it with all the gasoline anyone can dream of and set off fireworks on it like the Fourth of July. I was the one who deleted my chumhandle and got a new one. I didn't look back once. That's the kind of guy you made best friends with," Dave said, his voice surprisingly even. It was like Dave had just emotionally detached himself from the conversation.

Dave mostly remembered black eyes and split lips. Coming home with bruised knuckles and a hell lot of warnings. The only reason he got through high school was his condition and that everytime he was in a fight, it was through self defense.

"I'm not sure what you want to talk about." His hand is still on the door handle like a fucking lifeline.