I can't deal with this.

I've already trashed the cabin, and now I can't help but feel like a petulant child, even though my anger had felt righteous at the time. And it had provided a sort of metaphorical symmetry, seeing as I had trashed my relationship with Greenlee in a fit of mindless rage as well.

It's as though there are two separate factions at war within me. On one hand, I know what Greenlee did was wrong. She had gone behind my back, rifling through my belongings like a thief until she found what she wanted. Hell, she was a thief. But I had given her the drugs in the first place, when my words no longer soothed her and I was out of my mind trying to help her, help myself. Hell, I had been guilty of a little partaking on my own behalf, as well. But I was a doctor. I kept it under control. Greenlee was uncontrollable.

And I had known about the coke. Leo knew too. He had assured me countless times that they kept it under control, that it wasn't a big deal. I didn't approve, of course, but hey, they were kids. They would outgrow it soon enough, just like anyone else who had too much time and too much money on their hands. Not to mention a little too much goddamn European influence. But Leo hadn't had a chance to, and Greenlee wasn't slowing down. If anything, she had begun to speed up. And yet, I had still given her the drugs, thinking that as long as I was in control there would be no harm done, and that I was simply allowing for a blissful retreat from certain harsh realities.

So I'm partly to blame for this mess too. And not for the first time, I think back to the words that Greenlee had thrown at me. Poison, huh? Well, I am. But just because it's the truth doesn't make it hurt any less. If anything, it makes it hurt more. Which is why I don't let myself give a damn about anyone, don't let anyone get close to me. Except Greenlee.

The fear that I had felt as she collapsed had been real. Like my chest was gripped is an ironclad vise from which I couldn't escape. Remembering her eyes, glassy, unseeing, made my breath catch, even now. The sense of relief I felt when I realized she wasn't seriously injured had been palpable.

Is that how you feel when you're in love? Sad when they fall and happy when they get back up? It seemed so simplistic.

At these times I try to remember how things had felt with Anna, but the last bitter stages of our relationship had colored my view on all that occurred before it, which didn't allow for a very accurate assessment.

But it was irrelevant. I don't want to be in love with Greenlee Smythe, so I won't be. She's self-destructive.

Almost all of her relationships have ended in failure, the majority of the time with only herself to blame. And not just her romantic relationships either. Greenlee has no girlfriends. And when she does manage to make a friend of the same gender, they invariably end up sleeping with her father. Snerk. I suppose the closest she's ever come was Leo, because he had always had that magical gift of making everyone feel comfortable, managing a connection with even the most distant. And, as far as their idea of fun went, Leo and Greenlee were made for each other. It seems impossible for two people to be better matched than those two had been. What a travesty that God had taken it away.

But not only that, she was a bitch. A domineering, controlling, bitch. I've never had anything against strong women; if they want to butch it out in the world like men there's no reason why they shouldn't be able to. But Greenlee takes it to the extreme. On her good days she's simply cutting. On the others, she's downright abusive. What Greenlee needs, and what she hasn't been able to find, is someone with the calm presence and patience to keep her in check. And I have enough sense to realize that I don't really fit the bill. The fact that she's beautiful, witty, and rich is merely the pretty outer wrapping, serving to hide the seething monstrosity inside.

But I can't say that I wasn't happy when I was with her. Even when she was still married, we had had so many good times together. Sometimes with Leo there.

Sometimes not.

I like to think that my feelings had remained innocent until Leo died, but I know that I'm only lying to myself. I had wanted her while she was still my brother's. Hell, she still was.

I guess I can blame Roger. My association with him was purely out of necessity, as I found his company mostly distasteful. Which was why on certain occasions I couldn't help but feel for Greenlee, when Roger would speak sparingly about her early life. This cultivated a kind of fascination within me, as I was intrigued by the shameful gaps that he had left unfilled. I would sometimes ask questions, most of which were met with a blank look. He didn't know one goddamn about the girl who had lived her life, for better or worse, as his daughter. In fact, I began to think that we were kindred spirits, what with the absent father and overbearing, poisonous mother. But I had been confused. Because we were kindred spirits, but not in the way I thought.

There was a knock on the door, but I didn't move to answer it. Because I had long ago realized the undeniable, terrible truth, that I did love Greenlee, despite her, despite me, and it was going to kill me. Because I couldn't have her.

"David." I didn't turn around. I didn't want to. "David, don't." I still said nothing, as my throat had closed painfully. "David...p-please."

I left her. I stalked off into the bedroom, cursing the tiny cabin. Utterly useless when you were trying to avoid someone. Not that I wasn't used to it. I had spent the last months of my relationship with Anna basically forgetting she existed, despite the fact that we lived in the same house, slept in the same bed.

"Will you listen to me? There's no reason to be so goddamn immature." I heard the door close behind her and I slowly turn around.

"Your head looks terrible. I see you didn't take my advice. Again." Greenlee rolled her eyes. Now who's being immature?

"It's fine. That's not why I'm here." I notice that her tone of voice is somewhat different then before. But I can't deal with this right now. I know myself well enough to know when I'm too agitated to be rational.

"You know what Greenlee, I don't care why you're here. I think I heard just about enough of you last night, don't you?"

"Okay." She sighs, looks away. Then she comes closer, and clasps my arm tightly. I jerk involuntarily but she doesn't loosen her grip. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry for what I said. I didn't mean any-most of it." What an incredibly weak apology. Did she really come over here just for that? I refuse to even acknowledge it. "But David, you said some things too. Things that were absolutely not true and even if they were, you forgot your own involvement. Which was pretty heavy, if I remember correctly." Now it makes sense. She came here to get an apology from me. And not just for last night either. For everything that happened before.

Is it wrong for me to consider those times some of the best I've had? Just because I was able to spend long, uninterrupted amounts of time with the woman that I, in my tentative and uncertain daze, loved? Even though my brother, her husband, had just died? I don't know. And for some reason, the fact that she regrets those times makes me angry. Irrational? I don't know. I just don't know anymore.

"I'm surprised you can remember anything, seeing as how you were doped up most of the time. Just shut up. Everything I said last night was true." The words slip from my mouth quietly and seemingly carelessly. Greenlee is speechless for a moment. But just for a moment.

"Oh God. Oh my God." She sits down heavily upon my bed, finally releasing her vise-like grip on my arm. "David, I think I've done something terrible." She looks up at me beseechingly, and I'm momentarily confused by the change in her attitude. Gone is her resolve, her anger. In its place is neediness, and fear.

"What are you talking about?" She plays with the sheets for a moment before answering. I really wish that we weren't in my bedroom, on my bed. Because now, suddenly, I'm sitting beside her, my hand hovering uncertainly in the air.

"The marriage. Ryan. Everything." She still isn't looking at me. I don't think she'd like what she'd see.

"We can annul the marriage. Mistakes happen." My voice is steady, unwavering. I have no idea why. She jerks her head towards me, eyes wide and white.

"He was with her, David. Last night. I mean, I thought I could-this thing, I don't know. I thought that I could do it, that it didn't matter. But I think it does. And I don't know what to do." She's crying now, shoulders shaking in silent despair. I place my arm on one gingerly. I can feel the bone.

"Greenlee."

Maybe she senses something in my tone, I don't know. But then her lips are on mine and her hands are on my chest and her body is trying desperately to be close to mine and I can't stand it. My mind has played tricks like this on me before. But never this good, this real.

I lean back, letting her do what she pleases. Because this is my dream. It's only her nightmare.