"Pardon my harshness but I think I am due. No one treats someone with so much hatred and distain for a decade and doesn't know why. Call it you were a bully, blame life, blame your parents, blame what you want but you Mr. Photographic memory. Mr. I remember everything has to have the smallest idea." he sits and leans forward. Hands are clasped, elbows resting on his knees and darkened eyes trained on me.
I wish I did, I mean I think back at at some point I realized what it was but it couldn't have been that way back when we were little. What the could I say that would even come close to being an explanation.
"When we were little," I lift my eyes a brief moment but can't focus with him watching me so hard. "I don't know I can put a name on it. I just saw you happy and that made me sad or mad or some shit. It was nothing you had done."
"Well back then kids were jerks for no reason I can deal with a stolen toy or what ever but you didn't stop."
"You're right I didn't. I let the anger take over, I let it consume me and well I am sure you know how that turned out." daring another glance I see a small nod. And him looking closely at the tattoos and track marks that are revealed by my rolled back sleeves.
"And you can see how it changed me physically. I wish you could see what it did to the inside. Scars aren't all ones you can trace along veins."