He doesn’t find me amusing. “Hatred of self. Poison thoughts. Impure motives. Dirty secrets.”
I step away and I feel the frown on my face deepen. “We should go. We’re going to be late.”
“The tears of angels,” he continues. “Festering wounds.”
“Try showering,” I say coldly.
“Dust. Mold. Mice and insects.”
“Jimmy, let’s go.” I reach for Jimmy, the look on Jimmy’s face making the tension in my guts spike again. I’ve seen that creeping anxiety before, and I don’t want to see it ever again.
Meryl keeps up like I haven’t said a single word. “Panic. Anger. Loathing.”
I want to shout at him that I get it; that he can stop anytime. That I know it’s me he’s talking about. Yet even as we walk away, Meryl keeps at it. “Cold concrete. Dark hallways. Sheets spotted with the filth of—”
“Stop!” I yell as I turn. It takes everything in me not to tackle Meryl to the ground. “Enough!”
Meryl smiles. The ranting stops. “Indeed,” he says. “It is enough. And it is time to stop.”