There's a fire burning beneath his skin that he can't quite extinguish. He wants to tear at her with his hands and scar her, watch crimson stain her pale, warm skin. He wants to be rid of her, but no matter how hard he wishes, she's still here right in front of him, holding tight to those tears in her eyes that refuse to be shed.

Norman watches her bottle her feelings and squashes the urge to rip them out of her by force. He can hear the breathless, pained sound she would make as he stood above her with her heart in his hands, all her secrets and emotions finally plain to him after all this time. "What are you doing?" He means to scream; it's nothing more than a stricken whisper. "Huh? What's going on?"

She moves across the room, graceful, calculated, ready to undo him further. "It's okay, Norman. It'll be okay."

"Screw you."

"Norman..."

"No. Why you can't just be honest with me? Damn it, Norma. Just tell me the truth."

"You want the truth? Fine. I don't love you anymore."

He scoffs, knows from the heat in his veins that he's angry, but that the pain is far more severe and unending. The anger will pass. The hole she'll leave behind will never heal. "Liar."

"I'm not lying."

There's a permenant scar on her knee from where she scrapped it on the tree outside his window during high school. She'd been a terrible climber, but there'd been no other way at the time. His mother hated her. Norman knows she still did, though she'd become less vocal about it over the years. His eyes focus on that scrape, that evidence of the time that has passed between them and tries to calm himself. "You don't love me."

Norma shakes her head, defiant like a child, her arms across her chest. It's something she did to make herself smaller and hide herself away.

He breathes out, somewhat surprised that it's even and calm. "Since when?"

She stays silent.

"Norma. Since when?"

She bursts like a balloon, all her air driving itself from her lungs in one breath. "I don't know, Norman. I don't know."

"Sure you do."

"I don't. I don't love you anymore. That's it. No reason, no exact point in time. I just don't love you anymore."

He stalks toward her, the four inches he has making him seem menacing and cruel. "Why are you lying to me? What are you hiding?"

"I'm not hiding anything, goddamn it!"

"Who is he?"

"What?!"

"Who is he? Tell the truth." His eyes have gone black with his rage. His hands itch from how badly he wants to strangle the man who's stolen her from him.

Norma steels her gaze right on him. "The Sheriff."

It hurts and for awhile, Norman doesn't leave the house. He's terrified of running into the Sheriff - one of his father's oldest friends - in town, terrified that Norma might be right beside him, the tan line on her ring finger the only evidence that Norman had ever existed.

He goes numb with the silence and the loneliness. It's easier this way, without the threat of being broken anymore. Eventually, he'd have to restock the fridge, but for now, he could wallow and that was a comfort in and of itself. Except that Norma comes back. Uses her copy of his house key and just waltzes right in, her heels clicking on his floor in that famailar way that used to excite him and now just makes him ache.

"What the hell, Norma?"

There's a manila folder under her arm. She walks to the kitchen table where he's sitting and drops it in front of him. "Divorce papers." She moves toward the fridge and grabs two bottles of water, puts one beside the folder and nudges it in his direction. "Drink it. You look like shit. You want me to make you something?"

He looks at her, his eyes bloodshot, exhaustion clear beneath them, his heart seizing with her automatic kindness. "I'm, uh, out of food." He says.

"Then, I'll go out and pick something up. I'll go down to that diner you love, all right?"

"Norma."

"What?"

"Why are you doing this?"

She falls into the chair beside him and scoots herself impossibly close, her knee brushing his, two fingers tracing over his knuckles. "I don't like seeing you like this. Dylan called and told me you haven't been showing up for work or answering your phone. He's worried about you. I'm worried about you." She raises her hand to his temple and brushes her fingers through his hair. "You have to take care of yourself, Norman."

"I wanna kill him." At least he's being honest.

"I know you do, but you'll be okay, baby. I swear."

"Please don't leave."

"Norman..."

"Please, just tell me what I did. I'll do anything to make this better. Please don't leave."

"I have to."

"You don't!" He leans in close, his mouth a breath from hers. "You don't."

She uses both hands to frame his face and keep him here. "Norman. Oh, God, Norman."

"What?"

"You've been with me since you were seventeen. Don't you want to see what else is out there?"

"No. You're it. You know that." His lips touch hers softly. "Please, Norma."

"It's been ten years, baby. We've had a good run, haven't we?"

"It doesn't have to be over. Just tell him you changed your mind. You still love me. I know you do." His voice is practically breathless, stained with desire and quiet desperation. It's something like his seduction technique, only better.

"I love you. I'm scared of how much I love you. Please sign the papers."

"No."

"Norman."

"Tell me what I did. I want to fix it."

"You can't."

"I can. Tell me." His hands have slid to her hips and he's tugging on her, pulling her almost into his lap.

"I saw you with that girl on campus. Emma. I saw her fawning over you, touching you. I saw how much you liked it. I just thought I'd set you free."

"I don't want to be set free. I want you." He stands to his full height and lifts her until she's seated on the tabletop. "She's nothing to me. You have to believe that."

"I don't, Norman, and that's the problem."

"Norma, you're being paranoid. Don't you know that?"

"You're still so young, baby. You deserve a little bit of freedom."

"I chose you. I still choose you. Norma. Norma, we're okay. We're better than okay. Don't do this." The tears spring to his eyes. "Please. Please. Please don't do this."

"Sign the papers, Norman."

"Baby."

"Sign the papers."

Resignation slumps his shoulders as he turns away from her, headed for the kitchen drawer where he keeps odds and ends so he can get a pen. He doesn't even look at her before he signs his name and shoves the papers back at her.

"This is for the best, Norman. Trust me."

"Whatever. Get out of my house."

"Goodbye, Norman."