Fault. Always so unclear.

Perhaps the fault was mine. Perhaps I shouldn't have pushed so hard. All I wanted was a taste. Just a glimpse of what she was thinking. Was I really in the wrong for that?

"Look. Just... Tell me what's wrong."

"I don't want to."

Obstinate. Here I am, just trying to figure out what's wrong with her or if she's okay and she doesn't want to share with me.

"You know you can tell me."

"I can't."

"I'm not going to judge you for anything, you know."

A shrug. Too bad, she's saying to me. You don't get to find out if I don't want you to.

At this point, I'm starting to get pissed off. "Look now, I'm just trying to see if you're okay! What's so wrong with that?"

"Maybe I don't want to bother you with it."

"But you're not bothering me wi--"

"Or I just don't want to share."

"Why not? You don't trust me?"

"Do I have reason to?" Cold, all of a sudden. Her eyes are downcast and she's leaning against the door.

"I'm giving you everything. All I'm asking in return is that you share your pain with me. What is there to not trust, damn it?!"

"The last time I trusted someone, they broke me. And I don't trust you to not do the same."

She turned on her heel and walked out.

I haven't heard from her in two weeks. I went by her apartment-- emptied out. I don't know what's happened to her or what I could have done to have made her stay or make her feel safe.

Maybe I pushed too hard. Maybe it's my fault.