She wouldn't admit it, but Tony being here made everything go away. She hated him sometimes. All the time. But him just sitting here and not saying anything, just being there, made everything kind of slip away. "Why were you in the road, Eff?" He broke the silence.

She didn't answer for a while, so he just turned toward her, pointed his legs toward her, removed a lock of hair from the side of her face, tucked it behind her ear. "You wouldn't go away…" He furrowed his brow a bit. "You were there. I was on the street where it happened and you were there and it was bloody and your face wouldn't go away." And there it was again.

She hated him for making her talk about it. "Oh, Effie." He reached out for her hand but she just got up and walked into his kitchen. Not asking, she got out the eggs and the frying pan. Neither of them talked while she fried some eggs. "Are you mad at me, Effie?"

He didn't sound angry. He just…knew. She put the eggs on a plate on his shoddy excuse for a kitchen table and then, unexpectedly, threw the pan into the sink. "God DAMN you Tony." He got up and walked into the kitchen, standing protectively in front of the sink.

"So, that's a yes." She shook her head, then pummelled him.

Slapping, pulling his hair, punching. "Effie! Effie!" His job training at the mental hospital finally paid off for him – he turned her around swiftly, controlling her wrists, and held her close to his body. "Effie. Effie. It's me."

When she collapsed he held her upright, kissed her cheek as she started crying. She grabbed onto the kitchen counter for some stability and he let her stand on her feet. "The road, Tony? Seriously? The middle of the road?" He sighed, crossed his arms and leaned against the refridgerator. "What the hell, Tony?"

"You can't fix me, Effie."

"It worked. Admit it. It did. Mom didn't know how but I DID and I could-"

"Fix me? Effie-" She turned around angrily and he grabbed her arm to keep her from walking away.

"You didn't fix me."

She swung around at him, glared at him.

"You loved me, and you kept me from giving up, Effie. And you made sure I started recovering again. But you couldn't have fixed me. You couldn't have stopped that bus, either."

"I know. I'm not stupid."

He crossed his arms and gave her a look. Well then, why are you here? Why are you angry?

"I held you."

"Hmm?" He started washing the pan in the sink.

"When you got hit – when I got over to you. I held you. I think I…"

"Eff-"

"I think I did the damage because you're not supposed to hold people when they"

He dropped the pan and came over to her, wrapped her in his arms immediately.

"I wasn't supposed to move you!"

"You aren't the one who hurt me, Effie. A bus hit me."

"I know but I held you-"

"I know. Effie. Do you really think you're the one who injured me?"

She looked down, a bit to the side.

He kissed her forehead.

"It's over now, kid. I'm okay now. You"

he pushed her away from him and leaned down slightly to make sure they had eye contact-

"can stop beating yourself up. I'm okay now. And you didn't hurt me."

She shrugged, hugged him again.

"Now that that's over with…" He sat down at the table, digging into her eggs, generously, since she burnt them.

Sid texted Cassie that he wouldn't be home. He walked with Fred for a while, in step behind him. He could hear him crying, but he didn't want to embarrass or push him. Neither did he want to leave him alone, because it seemed everyone was on the edge that night. He'd come home from work that day to find Cassie on the linoleum in their kitchen, arranging all the canned food. She didn't even notice him, she was so transfixed.

What's worse, he hadn't noticed. They'd had sex every night for the past week and he hadn't noticed the lost weight. He'd been going out to dinner with everyone from work, assuming she was eating at home. Her eating disorder hadn't even been a big deal for them since they left Bristol the first time. Now he wondered how long she'd been hiding it. He wondered how he didn't notice it during sex.

Was he another one of those drones who just stared at the wall while fucking their wives? Wife. Yes. They eloped. He didn't want a wedding, she didn't really care either way. She wore a white dress, he wore a suit, in a room full of flowers they said their vows and kissed for the first time, finally together.

Now he wondered if he was neglecting her. Fred made it to the river on the court and sat down on the bench. Sid sat beside him, didn't say anything. But Fred kept crying, which was a bit awkward, because Sid didn't know whether to hug him. Fred never cried. Emotion for him simply wasn't something that happened.

He put his head in his arms, though, and stopped being quiet about it, even though he was fully aware that Sid was there. The sun came up beautifully, and Sid just put his hand on Fred's shoulder. Left it there. He was both shivering and shaking. At least ten minutes went by like that before Fred looked up and chuckled at Sid. "You want to get breakfast?" He nodded, and they walked, this time side by side, to the nearest diner.

"So, what are you going to do?" Sid broached, only after eating a full pancake in silence while Fred picked at his waffle. "Are you going to pick her up this morning from Tony's?" Fred shook his head. "Well, that's good. I mean, she hasn't spent time with her brother in a while…" Fred downed the entire glass of chocolate milk in front of him in about five seconds. "Is he going to section her? I mean I know she's been before but that could be considered a suicide attempt."

Fred shrugged. "Who knows."

"What do you mean, who knows? Do you want her to be sectioned?"

He shrugged.

"I don't…I mean, good for her, if she is, you know? But I've done this gig before. Twice, with her. I tried to keep her awake, Sid. I really did. And I do love her but I…" He sighed, put down his fork with a loud clank.

Sid nodded. It felt like they were holding a meeting of the Dysfunctional Girlfriends Club.

"I'm not a horrible person, Sid. I sound like one." Sid nodded emphatically.

"I know. So…then. What are you going to do?"

Fred wiped his eyes of the tears that developed and leaned back against the cushioned pleather of the booth. "My Dad's going on a road trip this afternoon. He invited me last week but I didn't want to go. I think I'm going this time."

Sid half smiled, nodded. He didn't think Fred was a horrible person for running. He doubted Effie would ever get over it, but when he found Cassie on the kitchen floor the night before, he understood the exact same feeling. Granted, Cassie had a ring on her finger, and he couldn't leave her. But sometimes, if someone offered him a plane ticket, he would take it.

Cassie was organizing the closet when he came home, though he checked the kitchen at first and everything was alphabetically organized. The fridge, too. All of his junk food was thrown away. "Casssiiieeeee…" He dropped his keys on the table and walked down the hallway to their room, where she was dancing to the music, turned up loud enough for their landlord to surely call later. And the closet looked perfect. Their shoes were both perfectly organized.

His hats were all neat and in a nice little design. He leaned against the wall for a minute before she noticed him, a gleeful smile on her face that disappeared the moment she looked at him. She quickly turned the music off. "Oh. Hi Sid."

"Cassie, why'd you throw the cheetos away?"

"Because. You shouldn't have cheetos here."

"We went over this, Cassie. You don't have to eat them."

"I know," she said in a shrill little voice, "but I have…" she lost her breath, and had to gasp for air, which had him instinctively coming closer to her, "to kiss you, and fuck you. And all those other nice things."

"No you…don't, if you don't want to."

"I have to do those things, and I have to do them," she turned around and looked at him. Her face was white. Scary white. Her lipstick looked especially dark against the white of her skin. "I have to do them knowing what is in your stomach."

"Cassie, please." He walked closer, grabbed her hand. Cold. "Cassie, you haven't eaten."

"It's…I…"

"You look like you're about to faint, Cassie. Please!"

She pulled away from him, turned the music up again, and started in on the t-shirts. They never seperated them. Of course, he never made the mistake of wearing hers. But it just felt better when their clothes were all mixed up together.

"CASSIE!" He yelled over the music.

Fuck, fuck fuck. She didn't say anything. He punched the wall. "FUCKING EAT!" He stormed out of the room and slammed the door to the bathroom behind him, turning on the shower water as hot as he could get it, stripping off his clothes. He couldn't make her eat. That was the worst thing.

He just wanted to make sure she wouldn't faint and he couldn't because then she wouldnt' sleep near him and wouldn't let him rub her back. And she just wouldn't eat. He sat down under the stream of water that made his skin itch. He couldn't make her fucking eat. While he thought himself stronger than Fred for sticking with Cassie, he understood the frustration. Fred couldn't keep Effie alive, he couldn't keep her from seeing the face of her brother lying on the ground bleeding.

He couldn't keep her from sinking. And Sid couldn't force food down Cassie's throat. He wanted to. God, he wanted to. He wanted to shake her and ask her if she knew just how much he loved her, but it didn't matter. She still wouldn't eat.

He turned off the shower to hear the door creak open. Cassie, in her lingerie. It fit a little loose now. When she bent over he could see under the bra cup the pale flesh of her breasts, her nipples which have always lured him toward her, until now. Now he just wanted to sit there and avoid them. She had a plate of chocolate. Probably from her secret box in the closet that he pretended didn't exist, because he didn't want to have yet another fight.

He sat with the water dripping off of him and she took off the bra with little effort. Jesus, she was losing weight. He cringed. He knew how much damage that would do. No, she wasn't sexy anymore. No, he didn't want to walk over and seduce her anymore.

He wanted to hold her. That was it. She was glaring when he looked back up, but she was also unwrapping the chocolate bar. And she started to eat it. Piece by piece. All while looking in his eyes.

With love. Revenge. Anger. Spite. Lust. Want.

He begged silently for her to stop this. But she continued, until the whole plate of chocolate bars was gone. And then she sat there. Determined, it seemed, to let her stomach absorb it. Tears ran down her face and he wanted to hold her so much. He got out of the tub, knelt down, slipping a little bit because of how wet he was. He crawled over to her, slipped his arm around her, pulled her toward him.

And for a while they lay like that, until he noticed her trembling. And he didn't hold her back when she moved away toward the toilet. He held her hair as she puked, but tears ran down his face as well. He rubbed her back and she cleaned her face off but then fell right back into his arms, crying this time. He just cradled her, kissed her forehead. Oh, how he wanted to get up, walk out, leave. But he just pulled her tighter toward him, and let his tears drop onto her skin. That was all he could do without being the worst husband in the world.