[The expression on her face isn't off-putting, because it's an unhappy memory. Shameful, even. His arms unfold, however, at the unmistakable hurt in her tone.]
The sedatives were to keep me from seeing the door that was there all along . . . but you might be correct.
[Days spent in a nearly muted haze, his retinas blinded by the white walls of that cubic room. He recalls the lassitude that surged from him when he beheld the horrors taking place just next door—the wave of regret that he hadn't swallowed all those pills he'd hidden from Gubo, the wish to pretend that nothing was wrong after the only person he had left had violated him so.]
He was there when I spoke of it. That I wanted the mirror to remain as an object of laughter between us . . . I had wanted there to be a misunderstanding, but I knew that was not the case. Thus, I departed . . . and eventually found myself here.
no subject
The sedatives were to keep me from seeing the door that was there all along . . . but you might be correct.
[Days spent in a nearly muted haze, his retinas blinded by the white walls of that cubic room. He recalls the lassitude that surged from him when he beheld the horrors taking place just next door—the wave of regret that he hadn't swallowed all those pills he'd hidden from Gubo, the wish to pretend that nothing was wrong after the only person he had left had violated him so.]
He was there when I spoke of it. That I wanted the mirror to remain as an object of laughter between us . . . I had wanted there to be a misunderstanding, but I knew that was not the case. Thus, I departed . . . and eventually found myself here.