“Honestly? I got no clue.” He breathes out a slow, weary sigh. People have done him a lot more wrong for a whole lot less, and for far more warped intentions. He doesn’t write them off. He doesn’t break from them unless he’s got nothing left- or unless he’s succumbing to one of those streaks of weakness, those violent episodes that he’s so good at pretending he doesn’t have. The doctors were right. They always have been.

“You’re not the first person to abuse my trust and you sure as hell won’t be the last. That’s just kind of how it is with me.”

He invites it. Enables it. Beckons it upon himself.

And he doesn’t have enough concern for his own well-being to bother changing that.