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datatime: 2022-12-06 22:07:17 Author:cMuKGrHe

Then why do it?

Then why do it?

I held my hand out for the flashlight.

Give me the flashlight, Richard.

I sighed. Less and less scares me, Richard. So when I find something that does bother me, I have to test it. I have to see if I can do it.

I looked at him, at the puzzlement in his face, his eyes, which had bled back to their normal, perfect brown. I'd been trying to explain shit like this to Richard for a few years now. I finally realized that he would never understand and I was tired of trying to explain myself, not just to Richard, to everybody.

He shook his head. I let this happen. I'll get him out.

Why do you have to be the toughest, the bravest? Why can't you, just once, let me do something for you? Going down in the hole doesn't scare me. Let me do this for you. Please. His voice was still soft, and he was leaning into me enough so that I could smell the drying blood on him, the richness of fresh blood in his mouth, as if some small cut had not healed completely.

Just to see if I can.

If I can crawl down into that hole.

Then why do it?

I shook my head. No. He's mine.

Why? and his voice held the first hint of anger, like a slap of warmth.

I shook my head. I have to do it, Richard.

I held my hand out for the flashlight.

Just to see if I can.

I sighed. Less and less scares me, Richard. So when I find something that does bother me, I have to test it. I have to see if I can do it.

I stared back into the hole and let myself acknowledge just how afraid I was. So afraid that I could taste something flat and metallic on my tongue. So afraid that my pulse was hammering in my throat, like a trapped thing. My voice came out calm, normal. I was glad. It doesn't matter that I'm afraid. I touched the flashlight, tried to pull it from his hand, but he held on. And, short of playing tug of war -- which I would probably lose -- I wasn't getting it away from him.

He shook his head. This isn't courage, Anita, this is stubbornness.

Because it scares me, and I have to know if I can.

He shook his head. This isn't courage, Anita, this is stubbornness.

And I can taste fresh blood on yours, but I have to do it because it scares me.

He held on with both hands. Why do you have to do this? Just tell me that. You're so scared your mouth is dry. I can taste it on your breath.

I held my hand out for the flashlight.

I stared back into the hole and let myself acknowledge just how afraid I was. So afraid that I could taste something flat and metallic on my tongue. So afraid that my pulse was hammering in my throat, like a trapped thing. My voice came out calm, normal. I was glad. It doesn't matter that I'm afraid. I touched the flashlight, tried to pull it from his hand, but he held on. And, short of playing tug of war -- which I would probably lose -- I wasn't getting it away from him.

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