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Dylan's Past [III]

DYLAN EMERTON

FRIDAY.

She fled. I'm hunching on my bed, gazing at the door while waiting for her figure to slide through. It's been over 5 minutes and 20 seconds, and Camilla hasn't returned.

I can't carry myself off the bed and wander after her, so I dwell back and seal my eyes, looking back on a time when I didn't have so many life problems.

"Dylan."

"You didn't quit?"

I rear back, my eyes drifting open, and find her in the middle of the room.

"No, I didn't. I went to get a glass of water, and I lost track of time in the kitchen. You thought I'd leave?"

Her brows crease with nothing but sympathy.

"If I were in your place, I'd leave."

I answer back.

"I'm not leaving Dylan. I don't want to go back to my world."

"Mine isn't looking peachy either."

"Yes, but you're in it and that's enough for me. Now finish the story."

I blink and draw a finger to my skin, tapping a circle to check if I am fantasizing.

"What if you detest me when I finish?"

"I will not hate you, Dylan. Whatever you did,
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