I unlocked the front door and let myself and Luke in. He walks through the rooms and lets out a whistle. "Damn. You've been busy this week, haven't you?"

I laughed. "Yeah, I've got a lot to do."

He nodded his head. "I can see that. Where do you want me to start?"

"There's a few boxes in the spare room upstairs that are being donated to the shelter in town." I pointed up the stairs.

"I'll go grab em then."

As he headed up the stairs I started on the boxes in the living room. After taking two loads outside and putting them in the backseat I realized he still hadn't come back down yet. "Mr. Richards? Did you find them?" After no answer I headed upstairs.

Confused, I walked up to the spare room and seen that the door was still closed. Where did he go? I turned around and gasped as I noticed the door to my parents room was wide open and he was standing in the middle of the room.

I slowly walked up to the door, swallowing my nerves. "This is the wrong room."

He turns to me and my eyes snap to the broken frame in his hands. I gulp.

"What happened in here?"

"Nothing. I just, uh, came in here the other day and knocked the picture over."

He tilted his head. "Why is it still on the ground then?"

I cleared my throat, "I figured I would get to it when I packed this room up."

He looked around, nodding. "Yeah now that you mention it, this is the only room with no boxes."

"I was getting around to it."

"When did you knock it over?"

Knowing where he was going with this, I shrugged. "Just the other day, I'm not sure."

"Mmhmm. Was this other day right before I found you in the park?"

Fuck. Fuck. "Uh, I have to pee, excuse me," I rushed out as quick as I could and made a beeline for the hallway bathroom. I slammed the door shut and slid down to the floor, head in my hands.

Why did I react like that? Now he's really going to want an answer and I don't think I'm ready to give him one. Fuck.

There was a light knock on the door. "Manny?" I didn't answer. "Let me in." I started rocking. Oh god, am I really about to have a panic attack because he asked me about a fucking picture? "Manny?" He asked again. I ignored him and focused on the technique Dr. Matthews taught me. Breathe in deep through the nose and out through the mouth. In. Out. In. Out.

"Manny!" Came through much louder this time. "I'm getting worried, will you please say something?"

I took a deep breath. "Just, just give me a second," I could hear how shaky my voice was. Dammit.

There was a long silence as I waited to see what he would do. "Alright, I'm going to go take those boxes down from the spare room. I'll be back in a few," he murmured.

I let out a deep breath as I heard him walk away. I'm thankful he understood that I was not ready to be so emotional in front of him. I wouldn't have an explanation to my reaction even if he wanted one. I have no idea why I responded that way. Maybe I'm more closed off to other people than I've ever even realized.

I sat on the floor, listening to his footsteps and the opening and closing of the front door as he takes the boxes out.

After several minutes I hear his steps slowly approach the door. "Manny? How about you come out now, and we go through that room together?"

I close my eyes and lean my head back against the door. He was such a kind man, but his helpfulness was doing nothing to help these feelings I've had for him for so long.

I slowly got up from the floor, took a deep breath and braced myself for his probing gaze. I slowly opened the door and kept my eyes downcast. "No, I can go through it later while I'm alone." I peeked a glance up at him and his lips are pursed.

He takes a step towards me, placing a hand on each of my shoulders. "Manny. I meant it when I said that I was worried about you. Eva said she talked to you on the phone the other night and you didn't sound good. You've obviously got some stuff going on, so let me help you." His serious gaze stared at me head on as he spoke.

I took a deep breath, ready to fight him on helping me, but I realized that the thought of having someone help me through something, having them take care of it for me, sounded so nice. "Okay, let's do it."

He stepped back, satisfied. "Okay. Good." He turns sideways to let me through as I head towards their room, noticing he had already placed some empty boxes inside. I stand there a minute to think.

"Okay, if you want to empty those dressers out and just put the clothes in a bag, those can all be donated. I'm going to go through their bathroom things and throw them out." He nods his head in agreement and I make my way to the bathroom.

We started to work in silence, and I knew I should have let him be the one in here, but toiletries are so less personal. My feelings about them are way too mixed right now to be going through their things.

After about 15 minutes of silence I felt his presence and looked up to find him leaning against the doorway. "Yes?"

He furrowed his brow, obviously thinking about something. "Can I ask you something that's really been bothering me?"

Oh god, this can't be good. "Uh, yeah sure." I laughed nervously.

He scratched the back of his neck. "The other day in the park, when I stepped toward you...you flinched. And, uh, well, it looked like you thought I was going to hit you." He paused, looking at me. I was frozen to my spot. When he realized I wasn't going to say anything, he continued. "Did someone used to hit you, Manny? Did they hurt you?"

A wave of nausea hit me immediately as I realized I had no way to lie out of this, that he had already figured it out and knew something no one else in my life has ever known.

Taking my silence as a confirmation he was right, he sat down in the floor in front of me. "Tell me about it."

"Mr. Richards.."

"Call me Luke, dammit!" I flinched. "Shit, sorry. I can just already see you shutting down and not letting me in. And it frustrates the living hell out of me that you think you can go through everything alone. Does Eva know about it?"

I do a small shake of my head. "Anyone?" Another shake. "Jesus, Manny, it's okay to rely on someone!"

"It's not!" I explode. "It's not okay to rely on anyone other than myself. Almost my entire life I've had to do it, because the only thing other people are good for is to just let you down. One right after the other, they're all the same. Eventually they let you down and all you're left with is yourself. And I'm okay with that, because that's all I've ever had. Me." I'm breathing deeply by the time I'm done, immediately regretting the outburst.

"Manny, not everyone is the same. You can't live your life making assumptions based off one or two people you've met in your lifetime."

"One or two?! You think that's it? Try every fucking person that has ever stepped foot in my life!! You have no clue what you're talking about. Some middle aged man going through his mid life crisis because his wife left him for the pool boy has no idea what I've been through!" I yell. I see it the moment I insult him, the shock in his face followed by the grim expression. And I wish I could take it back.

"Alright Manny. Have it your way. I want to help you but it's obvious you don't want it." He stands up, brushing off his pants leg. "I'm going to take these bags I finished with me and I'll drop it all off to donate." He turns and quickly heads towards the stairs.

"Mr. Richards! I'm sorr-" I flinch as the slamming of the front door cuts me off. I sink even further into the floor as a lay there.

I'm not sure how much time passes as I lay there in silence, appalled at how I could have said those things to him.

I think maybe I should give Dr. Matthews a call, because my brain has not been in a good head space ever since my parents funeral.

I lay there, unmoving. Watching through the window as the sun sets until I'm in darkness. My stomach is growling, having not eaten anything today.

I keep telling myself to get up, go get my phone and call him. Apologize. But I still do not move. Laying there in silence, I drift off to sleep.