"In the end, we will remember not the words of our enemies, but the silence of our friends." ~Martin Luther King Jr.
Alexei Voronin
I didn't mean it.
Doesn't change the fact that I said it. Her tears made me uncomfortable in a searing way, the kind that digs under your skin and settles there, clawing at you from the inside out. It wasn't just that she was crying—I had seen countless people cry. It was the way she did it. Silent. No sobs, no hiccups. Just the steady fall of tears streaking down her face as she stared at me, wide-eyed, waiting for me to take it back.
Like the bastard I was, I scoffed at her tears and pried my attention from what was gnawing at me like a vicious tiger. I was tempted to say the words that had never been uttered from my mouth since I grew a cock.
But I couldn't. Not now. Not after everything that had happened.
