Flint
For once, we don’t separate on bad terms. In fact, we separate on something new entirely—terms I don’t completely understand myself. Open-ended terms.
What’s happening between us? Why can’t I make any sense of it?
I’m worried about her. I don’t want her going back to Damon; then again, I know perfectly well that I have no control over that whatsoever and that, in all likelihood, that’s exactly what she’ll do. I asked her, of course, and she didn’t give me a straight answer. She told me she wasn’t sure. She told me she’s not sure of anything.
“Even if I was,” she said, “I’m not sure it would matter.”
Maybe she was right. Maybe if she did decide to leave Damon, to save herself and be free for the first time in four years, he would just come after her anyway. Maybe he would do some
