A/N: Updated May 2014

When Étienne returns, he remains blissfully unaware of what's just happened. Jerk.

"I should've had you come upstairs with me," he says as he opens the door, dressed for the day. "Would've made that cold shower much more bearable."

"I bet," I say bitterly through my tears. I would have loved nothing more than to do that, say, 30 minutes ago. But now it's different. Now I lay on my bed, motionless, not sure what anything means anymore.

He walks over toward my bed, alarmed at the sight of tears I desperately wish I could hide.

"Hey," he says, coming closer. "What's wrong? Is everything all right?"

"No, it's not," I say slowly, turning myself away from him. "Check your cell phone."

"Fuck," he says. "I can't believe he would..."

He quickly grabs the phone and checks for messages. It dawns on me that he thought it was about his mother, not…her.

"Oh," he says sadly at the evidence in front of him. "Anna, I'm really sorry. I don't – "

"I knew you were still with her," I say calmly. "I just didn't think that you…that you…"

"Would miss her?" he asks, his tone suddenly bitter. "We've been together for a while now. We do still…"

His voice trails off and I turn to face him again, unable to comprehend the words from his mouth.

"What is it that you do, St. Clair?"

Silence.

"Come on, tell me! What is it that you do with her?!"

St. Clair shifts uncomfortably under my stare. His face looks pained, angered, but not enough to make me feel any better about our current situation.

"So, what was all of this?" I ask, gesturing toward my bed, my tears stronger than before. "Some kind of game? Some kind of sick, twisted game?"

Color flushes across his face.

"I wish I could tell you it was," he finally says. "I wish I could tell you everything that happened last night meant nothing to me. But it's not that easy, Anna. It never is."

His voice cracks at the end and it brings me back to the emotions of last night, the emotions that led us to the complete breakdown that is today. It takes all my strength not to cave in at the sound of his pain, and of my pain, too.

"Please," I plead. "Just…leave."

"You don't mean that," he says, turning toward the door.

"Go!" I scream.

He slams the door behind him and I sob against my pillow, louder than I've ever sobbed before.