Disclaimer: I don't own Prison Break, I just obsess over it.
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He used me.
I don't know why this is such a big surprise. He's just like the others. Pretty (too pretty for his own good really), intelligent (even the dumbest of my exs—the worst of the junkies—was a smart man when he was sober), and after something.
With the others, I knew what they wanted. My easy access to the narcotics locker. Free hypodermic needles. I was Santa Claus, one of them had said, but a whole lot sexier. I wonder if he even knew what I looked like with my clothes off. We only made love when we were high.
All that was supposed to change when I took the job at Fox River. Clean, I had the capacity to feel joy.
There has to be something wrong with my head, if I thought I could find it here.
My eyes keep wandering over to the examine bed where he'd been sitting. Just looking over there makes my stomach to loop-de-loops. But then I remember why he kissed me, and I feel sick all over again.
What was it he could want in this room? Certainly not me. Maybe the same thing as all the others—drugs, needles. He lied to me, way back at the beginning. Told me he was scared of needles. This from the man living with diabetes, with fifty percent of his body tattooed. Just one in a whole string of lies adding up to…no end that I can see.
You kissed me, Michael Scofield, and for that brief minute, I felt joy. As I pressed my lips to your palm, I thought for a second that making love to you would be the greatest high of my life. But you used me for the same reason as all the others, and I don't think I can forgive you for that.