My mind whirls through ideas that won’t open me up to a situation I might not be able to extricate myself from.

“I’ll talk,” I say in a rush. “To you, about things.”

Maybe manipulation will get me a step closer to finding a way to destroy you.

He reclines a little more in his seat, making the wood creak from his weight.

“About what?”

I shrug.

“I don’t know. About me, I guess. About you.”

He doesn’t speak for several seconds.

“In my room.”

Frowning, I start to tell ...