Those thoughts are hateful. I worship him like I know he worships me. I don't want to lose him.I don't care about him ... I do care ... I don't care ..... I hate myself.Christ! Am I going mad? Am I going to wake up one day in a straight jacket?It's the end of the party. David has our coats and he leads me by the arm to the front door, where Simon is waiting, bidding everyone a good night.As we approach, Simon sees me and his eyes light up. We shake hands and mutter pleasantries and we can't take. It was time to sit down with the school counsellor. Mr. Cullen would know what I should do."Hmmm. There's nothing that stands out as particularly special, Ian. You're good at math, your science and history are fine, I wouldn't expect you to choose Shakespeare," he chuckled. "Otherwise, the field is wide open for you. I suggest you go to college, take a general set of required courses, and maybe try psychology as an elective. You're bright enough to do well and you have good work habits. I think. I started having my doubts about spending my night here.I mean her mood swings were dangerously insane. I got up said I should probably leave. she asked me not to. please stay with me I really don’t want to be alone tonight. her phone rang and she got up to picked up the phone. it was husband. I don’t know what he said but she was getting more and more angry. at last she said go and fuck the whore you were with and don’t come back here. Otherwise I will tell people about what a thieving. I can feel my muscles bunching and releasing the utmost force behind my blows. When her arms aren’t in the way anymore, my left fist makes an appearance, hooking around and knocking into her cheek, swinging her head the opposite direction. Singing blood is pounding from my heart, my eyes focused on the task, my brain racing to keep up. When I feel large hands grab me around my waist to pull me away, I don’t fight them. I see blood gushing from her lip and notice I’d probably kill this bitch.