I leave Ellie’s apartment fuming. How does she not understand that I was just trying to help her? It’s not like I wanted to reveal Caroline’s secret. But it’s something that had to be done. Besides, if Caroline didn’t want anyone to know that she actually killed herself, why did she leave a note? No, she wanted everyone to know the truth. Maybe she didn’t want her mom to know, but she wanted someone to know. She wanted Ellie to know. She probably wanted Tom to know as well. He’s the one who is largely responsible for her suicide. He was the one who violated her. Killing herself was her way of not dealing with the pain he’d caused her any longer. Fuck, it just breaks my heart that she did this. It also makes me want to kill Tom. Or at the very least, beat the daylights out of him.

It starts to rain. I pull the collar of my jacket tighter around my neck to keep some of the chill away from me. Unfortunately, it does fuck all. Taking a walk in the fresh air seemed like a good idea only ten minutes earlier, but now I willfully regret the decision. As much as I try to put everything that just happened at Ellie’s out of my mind, my thoughts just keep drifting back. How can she not understand? The reason that I talked to the District Attorney is that I didn’t want Caroline’s death to be in vain. I didn’t want an asshole like Tom walking the streets among us. He needs to be punished for what he did. Or at the very least, people need to learn the truth about him. If I just let the letter go and bury it along with Caroline, Tom stays out there in the world, free to do something like this to another woman. No, I couldn’t have that. The main witness against Tom is no longer available to testify against him. So, without the letter, the DA would have no choice but to drop the case. And now? Well, now there’s at least hope.

I walk the last few blocks with my head in the clouds. Everything that made perfect sense just a few hours ago, no longer makes any sense at all. The cold air, which is supposed to clear my head, just makes it all that much worse. I clench my fists. Anger is building up deep within me, the kind that burns slowly, and the kind that I don’t really know how to deal with at all. And the worst thing? It’s directed at Ellie. I’m angry with her. Mostly angry, but also disappointed. Why is she being so obtuse? Is it deliberate? Why can’t she meet me halfway on this? How dare she kick me out? Just as things were starting to look up.

Perhaps I’m not cut out for relationships. Or at least this one. Should things really be this hard? I mean, we haven’t been dating that long. And we’ve already endured all of this drama. No, it’s just too hard.

“Hey!” someone yells as I turn the corner. My building is within view, at the end of the block, and I’m not in the mood to make small talk with some stranger.

“Hey!” the guy says again. Against my better judgement, I turn around. A gale force wind slams into my face. I put my hand up to block some of the wind and rain so I can see who’s trying to get my attention.

“You’re such an asshole, you know that, Aiden?” the guy says, stepping out of the shadow.

“What are you doing here, Blake?” I ask. He takes a step back. His footing is uneasy and he nearly falls, catching himself on the wall.

“Hey!” he says again, slurring his words. As he leans closer to me, a strong odor of alcohol slams into my face.

“Go home. You’re drunk.”

“I will not go…home.”

“Fine,” I say, turning away from him. “I am.”

Just as I’m about to walk away, he grabs my shoulder.

“Where are you going?” he asks. “You think you can get me fired and then…then what? Just go away?”

I shrug him off, but he refuses to let me go. Instead, he grabs me by my neck and presses my face toward his.

“You…got me…fired, you ass…hole,” he mumbles.

I grab his hands and peel him away from me. Once I free my neck, I give him a strong shove. He bounces back a few steps and braces himself against the wall.

“I’m not going to talk about this right now,” I say. “You’re drunk. If you want to discuss this later, give me a call.”

“Fine, I…will,” he says. “Don’t think I won’t.”

This time I don’t wait for him to grab onto me again. I turn up my collar and walk toward my building. Anger, which has been growing within me, bubbles toward the surface. But it’s no longer aimed at Ellie. No, my anger is directed entirely at Blake. Who does he think he is? Why the fuck is he stalking me? Showing up near my house? All the shit that he did to Ellie and to me…and he’s blaming me? All I see is red.

A few minutes later, I get home and pour myself a glass of whiskey. As the dark, soothing liquid runs down my throat, I start to feel a little better. My anger dissipates a little bit and is quickly replaced with just a general feeling of loss and disappointment. There was a time, not that long ago, when Blake was a friend. And not just a friend, a really close friend. My best friend. We have been friends since Yale. He was the one person who was there with me when I started Owl, my company. He was there through its meteoric rise. And yet, he was the one who was largely responsible for my downfall. In fact, he was the instrumental actor who caused my downfall. But why? During all that time that I thought we were close friends, did he secretly hate me?

The intercom rings. When I answer, the doorman says that it’s Blake Garrison here to see me.

“Don’t let him up,” I say. I’m about to hang up, when I hear some commotion on the other end.

“You asshole! You think you can just take my job?” Blake yells into the phone. He must’ve grabbed it away from the doorman. “You’re going to pay for this! You and your slut girlfriend. You’re both going to be sorry when I’m through with you!”