Raj dropped by my apartment that evening with beer. We sat on the balcony, city buzzing below.
He said, "You're pushing yourself into a corner. Be careful you don't break before they do."
I said, "I can't stop. If I stop, it means they win."
He stared at me for a long moment, then muttered, "Just don't cross the line where you start liking the pain you're giving. That's when you're gone."
I didn't answer. I didn't want to admit that sometimes the idea of watching them squirm already felt like oxygen.