She is well practiced in the art of losing herself.

I wonder if this is how is is with all evil men, that to someone, they look just like good men, talk like good men, are just as likable as good men.

Then I realize what it is. It's him. Something about him makes me feel like I am about to fall. Or turn to liquid. Or burst into flames.

How strange that something so simple could have been instrumental in my decision to ruin one of my most relationships and friendships, and damage another.

With four? Doing a little... Addition? Multiplication?

He pulls me over the railing and against his chest, gathering me into his arms, easing an arm under my knees. I press my face into his shoulder, and there is a sudden, hollow silence.

I imagine the wave of water colliding with the rock and spilling over the tile floor, collecting around my shoes. Doing a little at once can fix something, eventually, but I feel like when you believe that something is truly a problem, you throw everything you have at it, because you just can’t help yourself.