My scuffling steps scrape the floor as I walk towards my room. I lock the door behind me when Corbyn starts changing clothes. I regard him raising his shirt off of his head and notice the way his muscles flap under his tanned skin. He stayed silent on our drive here without uttering a word or making an offending remark.

"Are you angry at me?" His eyes meet mine.

"We'll talk tomorrow,"

"So, you still are," I assume.

"Promise me you will stay away from him, and I won't be," I roll my eyes sensing my irritation battle against my exhaustion. My shoulders and hands ache painfully and I can't wait the moment I flop down on the bed.

"I said that I won't," I argue walking towards him, only the bed between us. He tosses his shirt on the floor shaking his head. His hand runs through his strands in an annoyed gesture.

"Don't push it," He warns in a low raspy tone that sends a tingling shiver in my backbone.

"Why don't we settle? I will talk to him and after, I will do what you want me to do," He clenches his jaw sharping it; his eyes glittering with animosity.

"Tomorrow," He grits changing into a new pair of black pants.

"No! I can't go to bed like this,"

"You're going to," When he sits on the bed, ready to lie down, my anger shatters into hundred pieces making my patience evaporate in a nanosecond.

"Corbyn," I cry exasperatedly. "I'm willing to do what you want, what more do you want from me?"

"God damn it," He roars standing up. "Stay the hell away from him, I'm not going to say it again," His eyes widen fearing me a bit, but I don't back down.

"No, I need to fight my own battles..."

"Not this again," He prompts me frowning. My eyebrows shoot up at his humiliating tone. "I'm trying to protect you, stop being so naive,"

"Naive?" I shout scowling as if I ate something bitter.

"Yes, naive and innocent. You going to talk to him won't change his fucking mind. Ever. But you know what you will do? Challenge him to go after you!"

"Oh, yea? And what am I supposed to do?"

"Avoid him and let me handle it,"

"Are you kidding me? Handle it how exactly? By punching him and getting expelled in the process?"

"I have my ways," He says. "Stay away from it,"

"Stop saying that! I'm not a fragile barbie that can't manage her life. You keep hiding me away from all the problems, constantly," I exclaim as my body wiggles due to the burning tension that crushes through my veins.

"What?" He seems bemused as if I confound him.

"It's true. You always do this. You never tell me about your arrangements for me, about the lawyers, about what they were doing to you in those courts. Nothing," I shout puffing.

"Where is this coming from?" I shake my head sealing my lids. I'm so fatigued and hungry and emotional right now. Today was a huge day that seemed not to want to end. Dakoda's words repeat themselves in my head. She brought all my memories back and my empathy for her after she admitted the truth scattered my walls down. Tears well up stinging the back of my eyes but I blink getting rid of them. I don't even realize Corbyn skeptically staring at me as I take off my dress.

"What is going on with you?" He titles his head to the side gazing at me with those blue slit eyes.

"Nothing," I murmur.

"I don't know if you're mad or just upset for the lack of sleep,"

"Leave me alone, Corbyn." I look up at him after putting my shirt on. "You were so eager to lay down earlier," He frowns. "What?"

"What happened?"

"What are you talking about?" I glare at him feeling my anger multiple. My heartbeat has accelerated again causing me to hear its crazily fast speed.

"You disappeared at the party and when you came..."

"Nothing," I blurt out rapidly. I don't want to dissert Dakoda's declarations even more nor tell him the truth.

"You expect me to believe that?"

"I don't care, Corbyn." I fight back. "Can we go to sleep now? Is your interrogation over?" I fall on the bed huffing and puffing angrily. I don't think I will be able to drift off, though, I don't have it in me to fight anymore. He, always, wants to do what he has already decided screwing my opinion about everything; fighting my fear in the place I almost got raped, claiming he slept with Dakoda to cover the pain that was inflicted on him due to his own family, shutting me down when I was asking for his family.

The mattress deepens as he lays next to me. I turn the other way facing the wardrobe. I can hear his fingers typing against the screen of his phone for a few seconds before an endless quietness blanks my room. The lamp on the nightstand on his side is still on but I'm too mad to tell him to switch the light off.

"I hate it when we fight,"

"Yea, it would be nice if you actually listened to what I was saying for a change,"

"I do listen," I chuckle ironically at his words.

"Right," I lock my eyes dooming myself in darkness. I just want to fall asleep and, finally, after this day, to be relaxed. The idea of sleeping rings a bell in me and I open my lashes. Pills.

"I'm trying to protect you," I whirl around between the sheets, and supporting my weight in my elbows, I look down at him and meet the eyes that were already watching me.

"Find another excuse, Corbyn. That one is getting old," I snap.

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"You hid from me that you started our relationship for the court to protect me, you told me you cheated on me to do the same, and oh," I dramatically remember frowning as sarcasm slips from each and every one of my words. "You never discussed anything about your family to do the same. And how all that turned out? You did it after you had put both of us through a hell which was entirely unnecessary if you had just talked to me, first," He gapes at me scowling and I can't believe for a second I let all the words gush out of my lips. He nods.

"I get it," I frown as a flicker of anger passes through me.

"Get what?" He shuts his eyes passing his hands through his hair messing it up more.

"I hurt you and you're not over it," He states, softly, sitting up upright; crestfallen. He hides his head on his hands that rest on his knees.

"I am,"

"I don't know why I thought we didn't have to talk about it," He admits ignoring my words. The sincerity that shines in his eyes makes my heart drop on my stomach giving me a sickening sentiment. "I assumed you had forgiven me after we got back together,"

"I have," I mutter. "But you keep doing this. Shut everything and everyone out, including me, to face your problems. This is not what a relationship is about, Corbyn." I mutter. "It's about listening, sacrificing, sharing but you just want the good part of it. When things get tricky, you just push me away and deal with it alone,"

"What do you want me to do?" He asks looking sideways at me and I sit up too so our eyes are on the same level.

"Talk to me, for one, and let me help any way I can. You rarely open up to me and when you do, we have already been a mess because you didn't think to do it in the first place,"

"I don't..."

"You do," I cut in. "You explained your situation with your family after I had found the truth, you talked to me about what is happening, now, when I came weeping to you about wanting to be with you. And all that," I wave my hand on the air, "they could have prevented easily,"

"It's not that simple," He prompts. "How can you expect me to talk to you when the first time I did, you said you can't be with me?"

"What?"

"When I confessed to you all there was to know that night in the porch, you said you can't be with me. So, don't sit here and tell me this," Reproach flashes through his eyes affecting his voice.

"That was different," I retaliate. "I was hurting, I felt like I couldn't trust you. I needed time,"

"Talking doesn't solve anything, actions do,"

"What is that suppose to mean?" He shakes his head and looks ahead ignoring my steady gaze, staying silent for a few seconds.

"Fine," He mumbles.

"Fine, what?"

"Fine, I will talk to you," His voice rises and I know it's not because he wants to, he, simply, wants to end the argument with a forced and fake promise.

"You sound so honest and sure," I roll my eyes laying back down from my sitting position.

"You don't understand," He murmurs after a moment. "I never do that. I can't wake up tomorrow and start sharing my fucking feelings with you when you know what exactly happened the last time I did," His mother appears in my head as the words of Mrs. Ross about the abortion haunt me.

"I'm not her," The possibility of him comparing me to her spikes my heartbeat due to rage; I'm nothing like her. He turns to me with a blank empty blue gaze.

"I know. And believe me, I thank the heavens for that but that doesn't change anything,"

"I haven't betrayed you once," I cry leaning up. " You have by telling me you slept with her,"

"It was the best excuse to make you hate me and stay away," He reasons and my cheeks burn from the irritation. The pain from that night floods my veins as it did then.

"Screw my feelings," I mutter. "Right?"

"I was thinking about your feeling when I did it,"

"No, you were thinking about yourself. Because if you had considered me, you would have ignored everything else and you would come to me, instead of breaking up with me,"

"It's the way I work," His brow furrows. "And honestly, I don't know if you can take it,"

"Excuse me?" I arch my eyebrow.

"After everything you have been through this year, you can't say that you don't want it to be over. The last thing you want is me bringing more troubles."

"So, you think I'm weak," I complete his thought; so much for the previous apology.

"That's not what I meant,"

"Yea," I interrupt him. "I don't know what to do to get it through your thick skull that when we're together, I don't care if you have troubles,"

"You tell me everything?" He asks out of the blue changing his position and turns his whole body to face me.

"What?"

"You're judgmental. But do you share all there is with me?"

"Yes,"

"What happened today then?" Dakoda's words swirl in my brain while I stare back at his demanding starry eyes.

"I can't tell you," The corner of his mouth quirks up as, proudly, if he has managed to trick me. "It's not my secret to tell and they didn't want you to know,"

"My lawyer didn't want me to tell you the truth either. Like I said, it's not that simple,"

"Good night," I mumble and turn on my side again. When I sense him laying down as well and switching off the light, my fingers emerge from the covers and try to open the drawer, slightly, before the small white pill falls in my palm. I take the glass of water and swallow it down as my throat eases at the welcoming coolness. The sudden light makes me blink.

"What are you doing?"

"Drinking water, the last time I checked that wasn't a crime," I answer. The previous exasperation and anger have resurfaced with our discussion that didn't lead to anywhere; I hate having those fights. I waste energy without getting, actually, anywhere. With one quick move, he falls on me covering his body with mine, and his hand drags the drawer I opened and gets the small bottle of pills that now, is empty.

"Corbyn, stop," I complain being pushed by his body on the mattress. His weight befalls all over me when his eyebrows furrow. I attempt to grab the item and throw it in the drawer again but he takes it away a couple of times despite my tries to grasp it.

"What is this?" He questions; I have never been more grateful for the difficult medical long terms.

"Nothing," His eyes meet mine.

"That's the third lie I have listened to, today, from you," He notices. "What is it?"

"Painkillers,"

"It's not," He says with determination as his eyes scan the small label with dark small letters.

"Why not?"

"It wouldn't have the term insomnia in the label if it was. The fourth time," I roll my eyes hating the day even more by the spending second. This cannot get any worse.

"Let it be and get off of me," I demand pushing his chest.

"Here you were blaming me for not talking and you do the same,"

"It's not..."

"Simple? That didn't work for you earlier, remember?" He smirks and the enjoyment of the situation, from his side, tingles my skin with anger.

"I have it under control and it's not any of your business," I say abruptly as my eyes burn from the lack of sleep.

"Everything you do is my business," I ignore my fluttering heart that somersaults in happiness at his romantic words; he always manages to say such romantic things when I'm angry at him.

"Corbyn, I want to go to sleep,"

"Tell me and you will,"

"No," He places the bottle on my nightstand but he doesn't lift himself off of me causing me to look up at him questionably.

"I will let you be but I don't like your attitude tonight," He mumbles turning on his side, freeing me.

"My attitude?" I echo.

"You keep lying to me, not answering what I ask and on top of everything else, you have never been more disrespectful. We don't talk to each other that way, ever," He says. "I'm going to let it go because you had a hell of a day, but if you do that again, we're going to have a problem," He turns off the lamp letting the darkness swallow both of us.