Can’t

-Dimitri Sokolov

As I waited, leaning against the cold basement wall, I ran through the plan in my mind.

I'm not even sure if what I'm doing is right.

Damon had been stewing in his misery for far too long.

Thirty days of watching him deteriorate into a shell of the man he used to be had taken its toll on me too.

I hated seeing him like this—lifeless, aimless, broken.

Pity wasn't going to fix him. Sympathy was not going to pull him out of this pit he'd dug for himself.

No, Damon needed something else.

A spark. A push. Even if it meant he'd hate me for it, I'd take that hatred over this emptiness any day.

The door creaked open, interrupting my thoughts.

Damon emerged, looking like he had aged decades in the past month.

His movements were sluggish, his shoulders hunched as if the weight of the world was pressing him down.