Damien's phone rang and when he picked up, Mark didn't hesitate before speaking.
"I'm really fucked up," he said to start, taking a shaky breath. "I'm so fucked up it's not even funny. I used to...god...I used to love going out and meeting people and having...jesus...having a life. And...and I can't. It's overwhelming. It's so...fucking overwhelming. Because there's all these people. And I'm not used to that. I was locked up and then I was alone and I'm not used to people being able to see or hear me so I end up talking to myself like a fucking lunatic and they look at me like a fucking lunatic." He took a long breath, followed by a longer swallow of scotch. Yay, self medication. "And even if they didn't, I don't know who they are or what they want and I can't trust them. I can't...I can't...I can't trust anyone! Do you get that? I can't trust anyone. I know Joanie would be telling me I need to talk to someone, to a therapist or something, but I can't. I can't trust anyone because that is broken. I second guess everything and everyone. I'm suspicious of everything. The AM did a number on me. And you did a number on me. And I...god, I trusted you. I trusted you and I liked you." He stopped to take another drink of scotch. God, Joanie would give him such shit if she could see this. "And that's the fucking problem. I trusted you for the whole summer. And it's still there like this lingering...thing. I know that it's because of your power, I know that logically, but it's still there. And I hate it and I hate you because I can't even trust myself or my mind or my emotions. I at least had that and you took that. You took that last little thing I had to hold on to. And now I don't fucking know what to do. So stop giving me excuses, all right?"
"And you know the worst part? I would have liked you if you hadn't been such a dick about it."