« No, Trent. But you are. »
« I didn’t ask to be saved, » I said.
« Good, » he said. « I’m not asking permission. »
I hated him for that.
« That’s not your business. »
I still got into the truck.
He drove us three states away to a quiet beach. By sunset, I wanted to go home to the yellow room that hurt me.
« I’m done, » I said.
I had already turned toward the parking lot when I heard it.
A cry.