Achilles' Point of View:
I couldn't convince myself to follow her when she left my room. If I were honest, I wanted to—so badly, but I didn't have it in me. I couldn't face her after what I had said to her.
I fell back on the bed. Did I really just fuck things up with the love of my life over some money? How the hell did I lose control so easily?
But it wasn't about money, was it? I just wanted—I was just not used to people doing things like that. I was not used to forgiving. I've always been alone in things like these, and it just seemed… outrageous, at the moment, that she would do something like that. That she would just, I don't know, take control and act as if it wasn't even a big deal.
Sometimes, her words seemed to be true. Maybe I was my father, cause at times like these—I could see him in me.
Carlos entered my room moments after she left.
"What'd you say to send her crying like that?"
