Insidious.

Harlow and I sit in the living for a long time. She's looking at me with these eyes I can't describe, and I'm wondering exactly how to tell her I'm not in love with her the way she is with me. It's all too much too handle at a time like this and I almost want to shake her for making me be such a dick all over again.

"Harlow..." I begin. She blinks once and then twice and then starts all over again. I want to hug her because she still looks so sad.

I sigh and put my head in my hands wishing I could wipe everything away and be done with it. Maybe go some place else where life isn't so goddamn difficult.

"What, Zach?" Harlow presses on.

I look up at her, through my fingers and then drop my hands into my lap. I draw in a deep breath. "Do you love me?" I ask.

Harlow scoots forward and takes my hands in hers. "If you're afraid to tell me about Rachel because you think I won't love you anymore, or anything like that, It isn't true, okay?" She says. "I'll love you no matter what and you know that, Zachary."

I shake my head. "It isn't that," I tell her. "That's the whole thing. With Rachel... things were different with her, you know? Like with everything... things are different with different people. You and I... I love you, Harlow, I do--"

"What are you trying to say, Zach?" She asks, her voice smaller than ever. Her eyes are wet and big and vulnerable, and I really just want to hug her because I know it's all my fault.

"I'm trying to say that with Rachel things were different than they are with you and I. Rachel and I were meant to be together, you know? Like Romeo and Juliet or some shit like that, only without the dying in the end. Sort of."

I don't really know where I'm going. I'm just talking and talking and nothing is coming out right because the last thing I want to do is kill another person. Literally or figuratively.

"What it comes down to, Harlow, is this. You and I aren't like me and Rachel. I mean, I love you to death, but it's just not the same. We fight all the time and we even started all fucked up. I don't... I just don't feel right with you anymore. Ever since Rachel died, I just haven't felt right."

Harlow is crying now with her head in her hands. She's crying in that weeping sort of way where you make those noises that make the whole room want to cry with you. The sort of tears that make the whole world sad because in the end, they're the realest kind.

"What does that have to do with anything?" She asked, looking up at me with red eyes and blotchy cheeks. She's still beautiful though. "You can't go comparing everyone you date to perfect fucking Rachel, okay? I don't even understand--"

My breath catches in my throat and my chest starts to feel tight. I feel like I'm going to have a panic attack, but I'm not sweaty at all.

"I killed her, Harlow," I whisper. I don't even think she hears me, but she stops talking and she looks over at me in disbelief.

"You what?"

"I heard her screaming and I didn't even go back."