My chest tightens at her words. I tell myself she doesn’t mean them. It’s pity, not love. Funny how often the two get confused.

“I’m not a fucking charity case, Elizabeth. Keep your pity to yourself.” I slam my fist down on the counter, seething.

“Are you serious?” She laughs at me, a sickening cackle. Every muscle in my body goes tense. My hands ball into fists. I’m so angry I can’t see straight. How dare she laugh at me? Who the hell does she think she is? I’m two seconds from tearing the entire apartment to pieces when her words shatter me.

“I’m the charity case! I’m fucking paying you to take my virginity. How pathetic is that?”

It’s the first time I’ve ever heard her really swear. I turn around in time to see the first tear stream down her cheek. She brushes it away quickly, as if ashamed. Her bottom lip is quivering with the struggle to hold back her emotions. She’s as broken as I am. I’m too shocked to respond, so she continues, her voice choked with dejection.

“I don’t have friends. You’re the closest I have to…” She trails off for a minute and I can see her brain revving into overdrive. “I’m not delusional. I know you’re only here because I’m paying you to be. But we could be more. Friends, I mean. I want us to be friends.”

I want to believe her. Seeing the sincerity in her eyes, I almost do. I turn away again before I lose myself in them. Lose myself to her.

I’m quiet for a long time. We both are. I can’t even admit to myself what I want to be to Elizabeth, but being her friend is at least the beginning of something real. I’m talking before I’m even really sure what I want to say.

“She was young. Beautiful. Fun. And a drug addict. And a shitty mother. Sometimes a shitty human being. I hope to hell I’m not anything like her.”

“What was it like growing up in foster care?” Her voice is calm and even now. If she has a reaction to my confession, she doesn’t show it.

“Shitty. And lonely.” I grab the discarded meat pan and salvage what I can of our dinner. I’m desperate to have something to do with my hands, to have a goal to distract myself with.

“Did they hurt you?”