It's weird to be here again after what happened, but I push those memories out of my mind.
The whole room smells of Yan, actually the smell of his perfume. I look around and see some magazines, a notebook, some CDs, and the bed all messed up with the sheets.
It is not nice, however, to see some books that I know for sure are Tracy's and a coat on the armchair that I also know is hers.
I don't like to like it here.
The bad thing about all this is that Yan is very bipolar. How could he say those things to me like yesterday, and today look at me like that seconds ago, like he's not the i***t he is?
It's hard to hate him. But it's a job I make sure I have.
I turn to open the bathroom door fully, but it's the bedroom door that opens first, I turn, and it's Matt, sigh rel
