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It's Marty.

Instinct kicks in and I slam the door in his face, but he manages to jam a shoe in the gap before it fully closes. He pushes hard with both paws and I'm caught off guard. I stumble back. He steps inside.

He's not in a good way. His hair's a mess. He's wearing the exact same clothes as yesterday. There's swelling on his face from where Ryan kicked him. There's nothing pretty or proper about him anymore. All of his pretensions and his carefully constructed veneer of suaveness and civility have been stripped away entirely.

He looks manic, with wild wide eyes and ungroomed dark fur all rustled and poking out in random directions. He spreads his arms and extends his fingers. He's holding nothing, he hasn't come with a weapon, or much of anything as far as I can tell. From the look of him I'm not even sure he came with a plan.

Nonetheless, I'm terrified.

I want to charge him down, knock him to the floor, kick him out and shut the door, but the thought of touching him fills me with disgust. I want nothing to do with him. I don't want to be anywhere near him. I don't want to see him or talk to him or come into contact with him at all. I wish he didn't exist. I wish Ryan's kick yesterday finished him off. I wish he woke up out of control, depressed, realizing he had failed and believing his life was over. I wish he _had_fucking killed himself.

I hate him. His very presence makes my fur stand on end and my skin crawl. He creeps me out. He frightens me.

"Ryan. Ryan! I need to talk to you!" He yells, looking past me, right at the husky. Nobody else matters to him.

I shrink away, my shoulders slumping.

I should be shouting at him, pushing him back, something. But I'm not. I can't.

I wish, more than anything, that he wasn't here, that this wasn't happening.

"Fuck off Marty," Adrian snaps.

The fox breezes past me, his paranoia replaced by ferocity in the actualized presence of the otter. A snarl erupts from him and he shoves Marty, but the otter's ready for it.

Marty drops his stance and leans into Adrian's paws, barely budging, then swipes Adrian off of him and forges another step into Eve's home.

"I need to talk to Ryan," he says, backing up against a wall. "I'm not here to cause trouble. Just let me talk to Ryan, please. That's all I want."

The husky stands still as stone, his arms wrapped around himself as a defensive layer. His ears are low, his tail is tucked. He seems frozen in fear. Then, in an instant, he transforms. He points a finger at Marty, whips his tail and barks a question: "how the fuck did you find me?"

"Get out!" Adrian yells, baring his teeth and physically blocking Marty from moving any further inside.

Above us the shower stops running. Eve has heard us or, if she hasn't, she's about to.

"Or what?" Marty asks. "You'll call the cops? I'd be happy to tell them why I'm cut up and bruised. Don't bother with the empty threats, fox."

"Howthe fuck did you find me?" Ryan growls.

"I'm not gonna call the cops Marty, they're as corrupt as you. No, if you don't get out of here right now I'm gonna tear your fucking face off with my own damn teeth and claws."

"I'm not here to fight, Adrian. I- I'm sorry. We got off on the wrong foot I- I just- Ryan, I just want to talk to you. I need to talk to you."

"Are you tracking me Marty?" Ryan asks. "Are you actually fucking tracking me? How the hell did you find me?"

I slink back, half-step by half-step, fixated on the scene unfolding before me. This is a nightmare. It has to be. I want to wake up.

"Ryan doesn't want to talk to you, you fucking psycho. Get that through your thick fucking skull and fuck off."

"I'll explain Ryan, I'm sorry I- I'll explain. Let's just talk. Let's-"

"Tell me. Now. How did you find me?"

Footsteps, footsteps. Eve is storming down the stairs at a dangerous pace, hastily dressed in a plain tee and leggings.

"Marty?" She exclaims, storming right past me, eyes on the otter. "What the fuck?"

I hate this. All of this. I want to say something, to do something, to make a difference, but I'm paralyzed. I'm scared. So scared. Not just of Marty, but of myself. All I do is fuck things up; I'm convinced any decision I make or action I take would only make things worse. Fuck, I couldn't even slam the door right.

"I'm sorry Eve," Adrian says. "He knocked, we answered. Kale tried to shut the door on him, but he barged in."

"Look, I'm just here to talk to Ryan, that's all I want. I don't want to cause a fuss. I'm not going to hurt him, or anyone. We can all be in the same room, even. I ju-"

"You aren't welcome in my house Marty. How in hell did you even find it?"

"The fucking creep followed me here," Ryan says. "You got a bug in my bag? Or are you tracking my phone? What is it? Tell me."

"Its your phone," Marty says. "I installed an app on it. It keeps track of your location, lets me find you. I'm sorry I- I get scared easy. I only installed it so I could make sure you were safe. Then all of this happened and I... I needed to find you."

"You fucking psycho," Adrian says. "You really seem to struggle with the idea of consent, huh?"

"You were actually fucking tracking my phone? I- Oh my god. I hate you so fucking much you motherfucking-" Instead of finishing his sentence Ryan twists on the spot and storms upstairs.

Seeing Ryan move, Marty darts past Adrian before he can react. "No, Ryan! Please. Lets talk."

Eve is too stunned to intercept. He's about to move past me, going straight for Ryan. I-

I can't remain passive. I can't let fear control me. I have to do something.

I grab Marty, closing my arms around him as he passes by. I wrestle him backward and he stumbles. I stumble too. We fall. I twist in the air. I'm on top of him, the two of us in a heap on the floor. I'm touching him, my paws on his body, it's disgusting. I want to throw up. I want to run away. My heart is beating fast. My breathing is rapid and shallow. I'm close to panic, but, for once, I'm doing the right thing. This is the right thing.

I brace myself for him to hit back, to struggle, to wrestle me off of him, or something. But it doesn't happen. I maneuver so that I'm kneeling over him and I look down, puzzled. His eyes are scrunched shut. He pulls his paws up and over them and lets out an awful sob.

"I just want to talk to Ryan," he moans. "That's all I want. I'm not here to hurt anybody, or fight, or argue. I just want to talk."

He's crying.

I stagger to my feet.

"I don't care what you want. You're not welcome here," Eve says.

"You heard her. Get the fuck out," Adrian adds. "I'm warning you Marty."

The otter just lays there, covering his face, crying. I step back. There's footsteps. Thudding. Ryan comes down the stairs, brandishing his phone.

"You're pathetic Marty," he announces, staring down his muzzle at the crumpled, crushed man on Eve's hallway floor. "The worst part is knowing it took me this long to see exactly what you are. You violated me. You tracked my phone. I hate your guts. Of course I don't want to talk to you. Not now. Not fucking ever. Stop deluding yourself. And, here, take your bugged phone with you." He throws the phone right at Marty's crotch. It hits its target and the otter curls up on contact, ejecting a pained groan.

Standing here, listening to the sobs and gasps emanating from the curled figure on the floor is utterly surreal. Marty's a sad sight. Pathetic, like Ryan said. It's painful to look at him, to hear him. He's diminished and withered, less than a shadow of what he was, like an echo of a man. It's as if he died the moment his schemes collapsed and all that's left is an after-image. How could I be scared of him as he is now? He's nothing.

I shake my head.

"Marty," I say, soft spoken. "Please, just get up and walk away. There's nothing for you here. It's over. Nothing you do will change that. Please, make it easy for everyone and go."

He carries on crying and doesn't respond.

"Jesus, you're a wreck," Ryan snarls.

"Is he really just gonna lay there and cry? Fuck. He really thinks he's the victim here doesn't he?" Adrian says. "Marty, you're out of your goddamn mind."

Eve grimaces and shakes her head. "Marty, I don't care if you're in pain. Get up and get the hell out of my house. Now."

He cries and cries, then pushes himself to his knees. He kneels and looks up at Ryan, tears streaming down his face.

"I'm sorry," he says. "I'm so fucking sorry. What happened last night it- I- I'm so sorry. It was awful. I was awful. It never should have happened. That- That wasn't me, Ryan. That wasn't me."

His voice peters out along with his resolve. He gives up on words and goes back to crying.

"We don't need to listen to this," Adrian says, spreading his arms. "I'm not going to feel sorry for an abuser."

"Yeah, this isn't going anywhere," Eve agrees. She looks to her front door and grimaces, it's wide open.

If anyone passes by and looks in they'll see a husky, a ferret, a fox in his briefs and a wolf in his boxers all surrounding a ragged otter on his knees, bawling. It's more than a strange sight and I wish we weren't sharing it with the world. Still, more than anything, I wish Marty was gone. Clearly I'm not alone in that.

"If you're sorry, Marty, if you actually care about Ryan, then leave." I say. "That's the only thing you can do that won't make things worse. You're out of options."

"I can't, Kale. I can't. You don't understand. None of you do. None of you know me at all, not the real me. Only Ryan knows me. He's the only one who ever has. I love him," He says. Then, addressing Ryan directly, he continues. "Ryan, I love you. What I did was inexcusable. I wasn't in my right mind, and I'll apologize for what I have done from now until eternity, but - as much as I want to - I can't undo it. I've been awful to you Ryan, I know that. I've been manipulative and cold and controlling. I've been all those things and worse, but I'm not a fucking rapist. You know that. You _know_that, Ryan. I was off my head on acid and ketamine, the whole evening is a blur to me. I can barely remember any of it." I flinch. Ketamine? I was sure there was another drug, I... Did I take some of that too, or? I don't know. "Just... Just standing up, yesterday, with you under me and... and realizing what I'd done. God, that was the worst moment of my life and, fuck, I know how terrible it is for me to even say that. How much worse it was for you I can't- I can't even imagine. If I was sober I would never- I- You know, Ryan. You know I wouldn't. I'm not- I'm not insane.

"I know you're not going to forgive me and make up and love me as I love you. All I want is for you to give me a few minutes of your time, and a chance. All I want is for you to listen to me, to let me be better. I'm going clean, for real. The drugs aren't worth it. They've hurt us both. You're angry, you're upset, you feel violated and used. All of that is on me. I don't deserve forgiveness - I understand that - I'm not asking for it. Just give me one last chance, Ryan, please. All I want is to show you I'm not a monster.

"You saw the good in me once. I showed you the best side of me, you're the one who brought it out. You were the only person who ever could. And I wish that 'best side' of me was the man I always am, but it's not. I want it to be. I want to make that a reality, but it's a struggle. It always has been for me, I think it always will be, but there _is_good in me. You know that. I know that too. You taught me."

Marty's monologue sets my mind spinning. My breathing shallows and the world blurs. I see myself in him for a moment. A minute. A lifetime.

There he is, and I, as one: a rotten failure, a fuck up. Privileged and fortunate in ways we barely even understand. Using our influence to drain everyone and everything around us for our own benefit. Drawing people in. Chewing them up. Spitting them out. Blaming anything but ourselves when things go wrong. Acting the innocent, unaware bystander to tragedy, unwilling to take responsibility for our actions.

He violated the one he loved. I ignored and antagonized mine to the point he almost killed himself. Perhaps in truth the biggest difference between us is that Marty is paying for his mistakes - his life is ruined - and I'm being rewarded for mine. I came out the other side in love with and loved by somebody so much better than I'll ever be. How is that fair?

What's worse, rape or death? Does it even matter? It's not like what Marty did to Ryan was his only sin. It's not like what I did to Adrian was mine. I let Marty do what he did to Ryan. I was right there and I let it happen. Marty says he was too high to stop himself. I say I was too high to stop him.

Who's worse, the perpetrator or the voyeur? Does it even matter? There he kneels, repenting, begging for another chance. Here I stand, acting all morally superior, surrounded by my closest friends. How is that fair? I have to admit it doesn't feel right. I'm not excusing Marty, I'm just wondering why I'm not on my knees grovelling alongside him.

I can't help but see his commitment to change and his self-flagellation as an eerie echo of my own thoughts. In this moment I see so much of myself in him. I hate that. The mere idea of it is sickening.

God, I'm not like him, am I? Chances are he's lying, and this is all for show. I'm not lying. I want to improve. I want to be better. But if he's telling the truth, then what? What sets us apart? If what he's done is unforgivable, I don't know why I've been forgiven so easily. I am at least accessory to his crime, if not assistant.

He goes on: "please, Ryan, let's sit, let's talk. I know there's no way I can fix this, at least not entirely, but I can't bear the thought of you being frightened of me. I want you to know there's no way I'd ever do anything like that again. I want to show you that I'm no danger to you, or anyone, and that I'm doing what I can to be better. I hope, one day if not today, that you will consider keeping me in your life. If only in some small way. I- I don't know if I could bear losing you completely. Maybe that's all I deserve, but, please, hear me out. Talk to me, this one last time if never again. After, I'll do whatever you say. If you tell me to leave and never seek you out again, I'll do that. I promise. I promise. And I know my promises may mean nothing to you by now, but I'll go the extra mile. I'll make it binding. I'll use all the resources at my disposal to enforce our agreement. I'll get you a restraining order against me if I have to. I mean it. I'm not insane, Ryan. I'm not blind. I can see how awful I've been, I really can, and I don't want to be that person ever again."

He stands, picking up Ryan's phone. He turns it over in his paw, apparently uncertain what to do with it, then makes a decision and shoves it in his pocket.

We're all waiting on the husky to deliver judgment, not wanting to talk for him after the torrent of words that have been sprayed in his direction. Not that anything we had to say would matter, Marty doesn't care one bit what the rest of us think. His obsession with Ryan is as complete and encompassing now as it's ever been. For all he says he regrets his actions and that he wants to change, he's exhibiting the exact same twisted behaviors as before.

I am not like him.

Not at all. Not really. Not ever. At least, not often. And, for now, that's good enough.

I fucking hate him. He violated Ryan. He-

He violated me. I-

How could I ever put myself on a level with him?

I might be fucked up, but I'm not Marty.

I'm not even close.

Ryan steps toward him, standing straight and tall. His muscles are tensed, his eyes narrowed, his tail still as death.

"That's it?" He asks, flashing his teeth. "More of the same old shit? You're not even trying, Marty. You're pathetic. Any good I once saw in you was an illusion. You're self-serving and manipulative from the end of your fur to the core of your being. For the last fucking time: I don't want to talk to you. I don't want to be anywhere near you. Not now, not ever. I don't want to see you, I don't want to hear you, I don't want to think about you. The only thing you could do to make me happy is get the hell out of my life, forever. But you won't do that. For all your talk, that's the one thing you'll never fucking do. You're infatuated with me. When I leave the country you'll follow me to Canada. You'll find me, somehow. You'll reach out and harass me, won't you? Don't answer, you'll only lie. I know the truth. You'll make my life a living hell and tell yourself you're so much better now; you'll tell yourself I'm being unreasonable. Maybe one day you'll snap, break into my home, rape me again. Maybe you'll put a bullet in my head, then another through your own thick fucking skull. Classic murder-suicide. That would be so you, wouldn't it? Do you get it yet, Marty? Even if you tell me right now that you'll leave my life forever I won't believe you. Even getting a restraining order in place wouldn't change a thing. As long as we're both still breathing I'm going to be looking over my shoulder day in, day out. I'm going to go to bed wondering if the next thing I see will be your disgusting fucking face invading my home, my room, my body." He takes a moment to steady himself, exhaling and inhaling. "You want to help me Marty? Really? You want to make things better for me? To improve my life? To make up for what you've done?"

Marty nods repeatedly. "Of course I do."

"Then there is one thing you can do.

"Anything. Tell me."

"Kill yourself."

Marty steps toward Ryan, closing the gap. "Ryan, I-"

"Get the fuck away from me!" Ryan shrieks, backing away. Marty freezes. "Don't touch me! Don't you dare fucking touch me! Never again!Never again!"

Marty freezes. "I was just- I-"

"Shut the fuck up, I don't want to hear it." Ryan twists and bounds off into the dining room. He's shaking his head in jerky, imprecise motions and stomping his feet. He doesn't turn back.

"You heard him Marty. Get out." Adrian says.

"And kill myself?"

"Frankly I don't care what you do. Just stay the fuck away from Ryan, and Kale, for the rest of your pathetic life."

I'm proud of Adrian - his resolve, his judgment - but trusting Marty to keep to his word is a fool's errand. No matter what Marty says, Ryan is right, he will never give up on the husky.

"I fucked up," Marty says. "I fucked up. I'm so sorry. I wish I could take it back, everything that's happened since I moved here with Ryan. I wish I could undo it all and start over. If I could, I know I'd do better. I know I'd be better."

"Well, I hope that's true Marty," Eve says. "But if you want to prove you've changed then chasing after Ryan is very obviously the wrong way to do that. Please just get out of here, go home, and do what you say you want to: be better."

For all of their suspicions they're still too trusting. Adrian and Eve are giving Marty a chance when he doesn't deserve one. I gave him a chance yesterday, I chose to believe him, and it was one of the worst mistakes I've ever made.

"Please, I just need to speak to Ryan a little longer, then I'll go. I promise."

Eve grimaces, but doesn't respond immediately. Adrian rolls his eyes and exhales.

There he goes, that otter, digging his claws right into them. They don't even know that it's happening. It's incredulous. It's hilarious, actually.

I laugh. Right in Marty's face. Loud and full of genuine humor. I mean, this is fucking funny, right?

"I'm sorry, but Eve, Adrian, you have no idea what's going on here. None at all." I say, shaking my head in dry amusement. The two of them look at me as if I'd just shed my fur and revealed myself to be an alien. Marty's gaze falls, his eyes deaden. I point at him. "This_thing_ here is in the process of wrapping you around his little finger. I know you both think you're taking a firm stance on all this, but little by little he's convincing you that he deserves your sympathy. He's trying to make part of you, even if only a small part, feel sorry for him. As soon as he achieves that, it's all over. You'll relent and let him speak to Ryan. You'll think it's safe, since we're here. You'll think it's the easiest way to get him to leave, so you'll let it happen. And, when you do, he'll do all that's in his power to convince Ryan not to cut him out. He'll plead and cry, prostrate himself, guilt-trip Ryan with all he has, manipulate him in any and every way he can think of. Even then I doubt Ryan will relent, but that won't matter. Ryan was right. Marty isn't going to give up. Not now. Not in a month. Not in a year. He's utterly fixated on Ryan. He's molded his life around him. He doesn't have friends. His family hates him. He isn't searching for love or connection, he thinks he's found it. He has money and resources and he _will_use them to his advantage. He's dangerous, and that's not changing no matter what he tells you. He'll never get better. He convinced me he could, and when he did I-" I stutter. I choke on my words. I can't- Can I really? Is that really-? I have to. "When he did, he got me higher than I'd ever been, to the point I was barely conscious of anything, and he fucked my brains out." I pause, breathe in. Adrian and Eve's ears are perked, they're leaning in, waiting on my every word. "I couldn't possibly give consent. I wasn't even fully conscious of what was happening until it was halfway over. He got me higher than I'd ever been and, when I was so far out of my head that I barely knew where the hell I was or what the hell I was doing, he fucked me. It wasn't just Ryan, he- he-" Fuck. "He raped me." ... "I know that now. I- I..." I can't. I screw my eyes shut and my words hit home. Oh god. It's true, isn't it? Adrian and Eve didn't even know. When I open my eyes I find both of them in shock. They're stiff, staring right at me and oh god it's all too fucking much. Somehow there's still more. "Afterwards I- After he finished I- I think I- God, my brain shut down, I dissociated entirely. I lost all track of what was real, I didn't even fucking know who I was. I- I think that was my subconscious protecting me, forcing me not to think about what had just happened, trying to erase and to forget. The fucked up part is that it might have worked, I may never have realized what had happened if not for- if not for..." My fists ball and a white hot rage surges through me. "Fuck you Marty. Fuck you!"

He tries to de-escalate.

"I'm so, so sorry Kale. I-"

I don't let him.

"Kill yourself, cunt, and make it painful."

Adrian's fist hits Marty squarely on the jaw.

The otter goes down and hits the floor with a dull thud and a yelp. He scrambles to his knees, then to his feet. Adrian is puffed up and angry, staring the otter down. For such a pretty and effeminate guy, he's kinda scary when he wants to be.

A wave of nothing rolls over me as I watch, a sort of cold, distorted distance. I thought admitting what happened would hurt, but after the initial burst of panic and rage I'm left empty. It seems to me that none of this is real, or if it is real that it is somehow meaningless. Is this an aftereffect of all those drugs? Or have I just stopped giving a fuck?

Marty could tear his own eyes out in front of me right now and I don't think I'd even flinch.

He is everything I wish I wasn't twisted and turned up to eleven. He is an avalanche of issues, problematic behaviors and fucked up thought-patterns all combined in the worst possible ways. I have always believed there is good in all people, somewhere, deep down, but now I'm not so sure. Maybe, instead, we are all born with the potential for good, a potential that can erode. Some of us become so corrupted that there's no trace left, no chance for redemption.

Or, perhaps, I'm trying to justify wishing death on another person, because, god, I wish Marty would stop fucking breathing. I wish that gun was loaded yesterday and he had put a bullet through his head, or that Adrian had done it for him. I wish Ryan's kick hit harder, snapped his neck. I wish when he fell just now his head caught the corner of a table at the wrong angle and he was taken out for good. I wish...

I wish he wasn't here. I wish I had never met him. I wish this chill in my stomach, crawling through my bones, clogging the back of my throat, was gone. I wish I wasn't scared, terrified, but I am. More than I hate him, more than I feel anything, more than I feel nothing, I am afraid.

I tell myself I'm not, I tell myself I'm numb, but it's a front.

I know there's nothing righteous about what I said to Marty, or what I've thought about him. Maybe he actually is sorry, maybe he really will leave our lives forever, maybe there truly is some good in him. Maybe.

Maybe somebody else will give him a chance.

I won't.

"Get the fuck out of here or I'll fucking kill you!" Adrian yells, his muzzle right in Marty's face. The otter shrinks back, his shoulders sloping. Ryan turns toward us, finally, watching in silence. Eve looks nervously between the open front door and Adrian. She taps his shoulder. He twists toward her, teeth bared. She pulls back and puts her paws up. Adrian calms a little, shakes his head. "He needs to go."

"I know," she says, her voice just above a whisper. "But maybe don't scream out murder threats or punch a man so hard he's sent sprawling in full view of anyone who may walk by."

"I just want five minutes with Ryan," Marty pleads.

"Shut the fuck up you sniveling worm, you are not a part of this conversation." Eve snaps, a seething rage more than evident in her body language despite her measured tone. "All you should be doing right now is tucking your tail between your legs and walking out of that door. That would be best for everyone, especially you. Or do you really want to try your luck with three pissed off canids who all want you dead?"

"I'm so sorry Kale, Ryan. I'm so sorry. I've done awful things. I wasn't in my right mind, but I know that's not good enough. I know I have to be better. I just- I need you to understand. Ryan has been my entire life since the day I met him. I need to talk to him. I need, if nothing else, closure. Please, let me talk to him."

"It was a rhetorical fucking question dumbass, get out of here!" Eve exclaims, utterly losing her cool. "You raped my best friend and you think I'm gonna let you wiggle your way into my heart? I knew you were evil, but are you really that fucking stupid? Please, don't answer that."

"'Sorry', Marty? You think that word even begins to make up for what you've done? You think that word means anything coming from you? You think you can work this situation to your advantage, even now? Well, you can't." Talking to him makes my fur bristle. I hate it. I hate that he's breathing the same air I'm breathing. I hate that he's so close I could reach out and touch him. I hate that he could do the same to me.

"Yeah," Adrian adds. "Fuck off while your bones are still intact, you-"

"Let him come." Ryan cuts in. Adrian is struck silent. We all turn to the husky. He's leaning against a wall at the far side of the dining room, paws in his pockets, watching us. There's something casual about his body language and tone that is so utterly at odds with the situation as to be uncanny. "Let him talk to me."

"Ryan? Are you sure about this?" Eve asks. Ryan nods. Steady, calm. Eve shakes her head in disbelief.

This isn't right, is it?

"I'll talk to him, then he'll leave. As much as I hate to admit it, this will make things easier for everyone.

"Thank you," Marty says. "Thank you so much."

His eyes lock on to Ryan as he approaches the dining room. Eve shakes her head, shrugs and exhales, she motions for Adrian and I to follow Marty. We do so and she goes to shut the front door. Adrian nudges my paw with his. I unfurl it and he entangles his in mine, squeezing me. He's saying: I'm so sorry that happened to you. He's saying: I'm here for you. He's saying: I love you. All without opening his muzzle.

I love him too. His presence gives me strength, keeps me sane.

Eve catches up and all five of us are in her dining room. It's a bit cramped. Ryan stands across the room, his back to the wall, surveying us. His chest rises and falls at consistent intervals. He's breathing deep and steady. Adrian, Eve and I are standing side by side, blocking off the entrance to the hall. Marty is further into the room, closing in on Ryan with the care and quiet of a hunter.

"Don't touch me." Ryan states. His tail wags low and slow. "And don't waste my time. Just say whatever it was you came to say. The sooner this is over, the better."

Marty runs a paw through his hair and steadies his breathing, stopping a couple of paces away from the husky.

"I love you, Ryan. What I did to you yesterday, to Kale," he turns his head to me, then Adrian. "Even to Adrian, was inexcusable. I am not here to beg for sympathy, or to make excuses. I want to admit my guilt and bare my soul. I was the worst version of me I've ever been yesterday, the worst me I can even imagine. I was at an absolute low point mentally. I was drained, upset and anxious, and that was before I got high. I know none of this makes what I did acceptable. I just want you to know that I woke up in the middle of the night, my body aching, my head throbbing, staring at the ceiling in my apartment and it was... it was like my entire life was flashing before my eyes. I watched myself on replay, not just the last few weeks or months, but everything." He exhales hard through his nose, a subdued sort of laugh. "I don't know how you ever put up with me, frankly. I'm glad you did though. You gave me the best days of my life, by far. And I... I gave you your worst. I've been self-serving, single-minded and manipulative. At times I've been cruel, even violent. I see that now. I love you, but I'm not good enough for you. I never have been. I want you to know I'm not going to chase you. I'm not going to contact you either. You'll never have to see or hear from me again, unless_you_ decide you want to. If you do, I'll be there, but I won't hold my breath. If you decide to inform the authorities of what I did to you, I will corroborate your story, I won't lie. I'll go down. As far as I'm concerned my life is in your paws. It's yours to do with as you please. No matter your decision, I promise I will live in pursuit of self-betterment. I will try to have a positive effect on the people I meet, on the whole world, if I can. I can never make up for what I've done, but maybe I can do something good. I want to make that my life's goal. And I know my word means nothing to you, I know you probably don't believe a thing I've said today, I- I just had to see you. I had to have you hear this because, maybe one day, years from now, you'll look me up, see what I've done, and you'll know I meant what I said. And you'll stop seeing me in the shadows. And you'll stop thinking I'm out to get you. You'll stop being scared. I don't want you to live in fear, but I can't undo what I've done. All I can do is hope that, maybe, by saying what I've said and sticking to my word, one day your fears will dissolve. That's why I had to seek you out today, this one last time. I'm sorry for following you here, for bursting in, for freaking you out. I'm sorry for everything. I just hope that one day this will have been worth it. I... I love you, Ryan. I'll go now. You don't have to say anything. Rest assured you won't see me again, unless its by your own choice." He lets out the sob he had been holding in and his tears fall. He turns towards Adrian, Eve and I and takes a step away from the husky.

What the fuck kind of game is he playing?

My mind is speeding. I'm a mess of contradictory thoughts and feelings, images and ideas. What does he gain from a stunt like this? I hate him so fucking much.

But...

No.

I don't care what he says. I don't care what he does. He is beyond forgiveness. He is beyond trust.

He could live a life of virtue for the next fifty years and I still wouldn't be surprised to wake to news of a Canadian husky being raped and murdered by the renowned philanthropist Marty fucking Konroy. He doesn't deserve a second chance, he deserves every bone is his body being broken.

He says he'll accept his fate if Ryan confesses to being abused, that he'll live with the consequences of his rape and violence, but what an empty promise that is. It costs him nothing to lie when he could use his family's resources, reach and influence to dismiss our claims effortlessly. It's easy to make grand promises when you're accountable to no one.

He's a liar and a creep and this is nothing more than manipulation, an introductory step on a brand new plan to get Ryan back. He's insane and dangerous and I don't believe a fucking word he's said. Still, there's a part of me - one made of hope and empathy - that wants to.

He takes another step, then another. Adrian, Eve and I shuffle out of the way, allowing him to pass.

As he steps into the hall Ryan calls after him.

"Wait!" The husky holds a paw out toward Marty while his other shifts in his pocket. Something flares at the edge of my consciousness: a cluttered, hazy memory, an alarm, an implicit understanding. My head hurts. "Don't leave."

Marty stops. He turns to Ryan, a small, hopeful smile forming, and re-enters the room.

"Ryan, he's full of shit," Adrian says.

"Adrian's right," Eve agrees.

I want to add to the conversation, but I find myself unable to speak. My mind is snagged on something. Something I can't quite...

Wait.

Is Ryan-? No.

Is he really-?

I...

I don't know.

But...

No.

Obviously not.

It's nothing.

"You're lying," Ryan says, staring straight at Marty. "Everything you just told me is a total fabrication. You are fake through and fucking through. You don't mean a word you said and we all know it."

"I'm sorry, Ryan. All I hope is that one day my actions can prove my words. I understand that day may never come. I know even if I only ever act exactly as I've said I will, you may never forgive me. I'll just have to learn to live with that," he scrunches his eyes shut for a moment, breathes in deep, and exhales. "I'll leave now. I truly wish the best for you."

"No, no, no," Ryan says with an agitated flick of his tail, taking a half-step toward Marty. "You aren't getting away that easily. After what you did to me you don't just fucking walk away. You haven't earned that right."

"Do you want to-?" Marty asks, his voice raspy. "Do you want to turn me in? I'll plead guilty, I swear it."

"As if I could trust you to keep your word. As if Kale or I want to put our trauma on the world stage. There goes Ryan, there goes Kale. They got raped by that mega millionaire CEO's faggot son. Fuck, Marty, you really think we want to fight KE? We'd be walking into a slaughterhouse. Your word means nothing to me, and if you walk out of that door right now you're walking away from the consequences of all the awful shit you've done. Nobody is going to punish you out there. You'll never be held accountable. That's just how the world fucking works for people like you. You think you're all holy and good for pledging to turn your life around? Even if you meant what you said, it doesn't change a thing. You're a bad person. Worse, you're a bad person with power. You're a privileged asshole who doesn't know, and never knew, how fucking good you've had it. You sicken me."

"I'll hold myself accountable," Marty says, the argument utterly absurd. "I won't let myself slip. Not after yesterday. Never again."

Ryan laughs. Adrian snorts. Eve shakes her head.

I breathe in. I breathe out.

"Save it for somebody who wants to hear it. Want to know how bad you've fucked up? I'm not even sure if my life would be better if I never saw you again. I would only assume you'd set your manic obsessive sights on somebody else. Maybe you'd rape them too, huh? Or maybe they'd be weaker, or less lucky, and you'd tear apart their life until you're all they have. You'd ruin them and drain them, all to fulfill your own twisted fantasy."

"No, Ryan, I would never. I-"

"Shut the fuck up Marty." I cut in, surprising even myself. My fists are clenched, my muscles tensed, my tail stiff. "Not one of us believes a word you say, so stop talking."

"He's right you know," Ryan says. He's smirking. For all of his pain and trauma and fear over the future, there's a part of him that's enjoying this. "Oh, but don't leave. You still have hope in you, don't you? You still think maybe one day I might love you. I don't want you to go until I've eviscerated that hope entirely."

Marty rubs the side of his face where Adrian hit him mere minutes ago and winces. He's uncomfortable, losing control of the situation and unsure of what he should do. This wasn't part of his plan. He's in a bad place and he knows it's only going to get worse.

I hate to admit it, but his discomfort brings me pleasure.

"Ryan," he says. "I love you, and if you want me to stay and listen then of course I will, no matter how hard it may be for me to hear."

"Suits me, Marty." Ryan says with a shrug. "Now, let me make something very clear: unless you stalk me - which I'm not putting past you - after you walk out of that door today you'll never talk to me again. You'll never see me again. You'll never touch me again. You'll never kiss me. Never taste my dick. Never feel the warmth of my tailhole around your cock." He wiggles his hips and fires off a sultry glare before resetting to an expression of total revulsion. "It doesn't matter what you do or how virtuous you become. It doesn't matter how reformed you are or how much you've changed. Nothing you could possibly do matters at all. You will never see me again. I hate you, Marty. I hate every part of you, every strand of your fur, every follicle, every single one of your fucking brain cells. Nothing you can do will change that."

"Okay," Marty says, at length. "I underst-"

"No. No, you don't understand. And I'm not done. You're not leaving, you vile fuck. Then again, you don't actually want to leave, do you? I know what you want. I know exactly what you want." Ryan takes a step toward the otter. They're barely a foot apart now. Ryan made it clear he doesn't want to be touched. By squaring up to Marty like this he's almost challenging the otter to defy him, to reach out and make contact.

Almost.

That flare at the edge of my consciousness again. That idea, that feeling that this isn't quite right. This whole situation. It's not distorted, it's not surreal, it's just... not right.

Ryan continues: "You want to touch me, don't you? You want to feel me one last time. You want to hold me, to taste my tongue, eat my ass. You want to fuck me. Isn't that right? Isn't that what you were saying last night? You said you needed me, remember? Before you raped me. I was furious. I wanted to leave. You tried to convince me to let you fuck me. Remember? And what did I say?" The question hangs in the air. Marty says nothing. "I asked you a question. What did I say?"

"You refused." Marty says. His eyes glinting with the threat of fresh tears. "You said it was a terrible idea."

"And then I tried to leave. And then what did you do?" Marty doesn't respond, but the question is not met with silence, it's met with sobs and tears. "What did you do?"

"I forced myself on y-"

"No, no. None of that shit. No euphemisms. Say it. Spell it out for me."

"I... I ra-"

"No. Not that either. That's not good enough. It's a gross oversimplification. I was taking Kale to the exit, remember? What did you do to us? Don't spare the details."

"I- I-" He covers his eyes with his paws and sniffs. His performative sadness has no effect on me. I've seen it all before. "I got in your way, begged you not to leave. You pushed me away, I fell back and then I- I got up and I shoved you and Kale to the floor."

"That's right. Keep going."

"Kale went down hard, he was barely conscious, he didn't even try to soften his fall." Marty shakes his head, his voice tearing in a heartrending influx of emotion. Coming from anyone else it would trigger intense empathy from me, but from him? Nothing. Almost nothing. "At the time I wasn't even thinking about him, he barely even registered to me, yet still I hurt him."

"Did it end there Marty? Did you shove us down then come to your senses. Did you see the error of your ways?"

"No."

"No. Of course not. You remember what happened next right?" Ryan asks.

Marty sobs, sniffs, wipes his eyes. Then, removing his paws, attempts to hold Ryan's gaze. He fails, and stares at his feet.

"I remember."

"I was scrambling to my knees, trying to get up." Ryan's delivery morphs from considered speech to a raw and vicious bark. "Remember?"

"I remember."

"What did you do next?" It's less a question, more a blade to the heart. Marty doesn't want to answer. He shakes his head and blubs up and acts the anguished man. It's as if he were reliving an event years gone, changed and racked with guilt. But, no, this happened last night. Acting as if it were some distant past atrocity is a disservice to us all. "Say it, coward. Don't make me chase and prod. Say it. Tell us what you did. And don't skip a thing."

"Please, Ryan, I-"

"Say it, bitch." Adrian commands through gritted teeth. "Take some fucking accountability like you said you would, and say it. Admit what you did."

Marty hangs his head and cries and moans and chokes on any and every word he starts to speak.

"God, it's such a struggle for you isn't it?" Ryan asks. "Admitting what you did, telling any form of truth at all. How did you ever think I could love you? You're pathetic. You're-"

"I stood over you," Marty says, he's shuddering, his voice uneven. His lifts his head and tries once more to maintain eye contact with Ryan. This time he succeeds. "I straddled you. I pulled your pants and underwear to your ankles. I knelt on your legs and shoved your shoulders down, slamming you into the floor." Ryan goes silent. All of that pent up aggression evaporates at once. His eyes glaze over as he relives the moment. "I spat on my fingers and rubbed the spit on my dick. I was hard, so hard. I rubbed more spit on your asshole. You were still struggling. I grabbed your hair and pulled your head up." He mimics the motion with his paws, grabbing thin air and pulling, careful not to touch Ryan. "Then I pushed down hard, bashed your face against the floor. You cried out in pain. Then you went quiet. I positioned myself just right, and I shoved my dick inside of you. I started thrusting. You were telling me to stop. Begging me to listen to you. Bargaining with me. But your energy faded quickly. You stopped trying. You gave up. I kept going until I came inside of you. I didn't last very long. When I was done, I stood up and walked away in a daze. That's when I realized what I had done."

Hearing it all laid out like that, being able to fill the gaps left by my drug addled mind, is crushing. He violently violated and raped Ryan right in front of me - right in fucking front of me - and I didn't do a thing.

I'm left wondering about those other blanks. What exactly did Marty do to me? There's so much I don't remember, and so much else that's little more than a blur. Did he shove me onto the bed? Was he forceful? Was he violent? Did he try to convince me that I wanted it? Or did he not even bother asking?

I'm furious and sick and scared all at once. I hate myself, but I hate him more, so much more.

"You're an actual fucking monster," Eve says, fists balled, loathing dripping from her every word. If Eve was meant to be the peace-maker, then peace is no longer an option. "You did that less than twenty-four fucking hours ago and you have the nerve to come here and talk to Ryan this-fucking-morning to tell him you're turning over a new leaf. What do you think gives you the right? You wretched piece of shit. It wouldn't matter if it happened twenty-four _years_ago, doing what you did to someone then actively seeking them out? It's sickening. You're completely fucking deluded."

"I'm so sorry. I-"

"Go die in a ditch," Adrian growls.

"I'm awful. I know. I-"

"No need to fret, Marty. It's okay," I say. "It'll be easy. Go home, put all your sheets of acid, your bags of cocaine, your ketamine and your whatever-the-fuck-else in a blender, water it down with some absinthe and chug the whole thing. It probably won't taste great, but it'll do the job."

"It would've been better if you never came here today, Marty," Ryan says, back in the present. "For you, most of all."

"I'll go now, I'll-"

"No you won't. I'm not fucking done." Ryan shoves a finger in the otter's face. "Are you really going to give up so easily? Don't you want to spend your life with me, Marty? Don't you love me?"

"You know I do."

He just can't resist the bait.

"And yet you're ready to just walk off. What's that about? No, don't answer. It's obvious. You're lying. You're done with me. You've had your fill. I refused you, so you took me by force. You've had your final fuck. You got what you wanted, you won."

"No, Ryan. No."

"And now that you're satisfied, you've come here to act all apologetic and repentant to clear your own damn conscience. That's it, isn't it? You had your fuck, you enjoyed your cock-warmer, now there's nothing left for you but bragging rights and pretending you have any sort of moral ground to stand on at all."

"It's not like that, Ryan, I swear."

"Oh, it's not like that? But you want to leave. You've said your piece, so you want to go. You don't want me now that you've had your way with me, now that I've been soiled. I'm used up, so you're discarding me. You don't care any more do you? You don't want to talk to me, or touch me, or love me. I'm ruined now, so you're moving on."

Ryan is straight up goading him at this point. It's obvious to me that Marty is as obsessed with Ryan now as he ever was. Ryan is doing this on purpose, he's...

Fuck.

"No! Of course I want to talk to you, Ryan. Of course I want to touch you, to hold you. I love you more than anything. How could I not?"

Ryan laughs, or barks, or something in-between. "God, you're pathetic. Of course you love me, Marty, why else would you rape me and chase me up the next day? You talk all this talk, saying you were so high and that it was all a mistake and that you regret everything, but it's all lies. You won't admit the truth, you wouldn't dare. You were in control. I know you were. For one, your tolerance is extremely high, but that's the least of it. For fuck's sake Marty, we were talking only seconds before you shoved me to the floor and bashed my head and raped me. You were lucid when we were talking - you were motherfucking eloquent - and now you're trying to pedal the lie that doing what you did was nothing more than some drug-fueled moment of madness? No, Marty, I don't buy that for a second. What you did to me was calculated. It was a decision. And it was you. All you."

"No, Ryan. No. I know you don't believe me, but that really wasn't me. I was out of my mind. It was the drugs, and the stress, and the exhaustion."

"That's a fucking lie!" Ryan literally shouts the last word, right in Marty's face. The otter shrinks back and tenses up. Ryan bares his teeth and lashes his tail erratically. "It was a decision you made of sound mind and judgment. You wanted to do it. You saw an opportunity and you took it. You raped me of your own accord. You made a choice. You knew exactly what you were doing, and you liked it." Marty is deadly silent. So are we. I'm overcome by rage, fear and disgust all at once. Ryan is panting hard, waiting for a reaction from Marty. None comes. "Admit it!" Ryan shouts, his voice rough and torn. Marty says nothing. Ryan squares right up to him. Their bodies are an inch apart, if that. "Fucking admit it!"

"No, Ryan, no, I-" Marty waves his paws either side of his body, trying to avoid touching the husky without backing away. He's distraught and high-strung and struggling to work his way out of this.

"Admit it! You fucking coward!" Ryan yells, his every word underscored by a continuous growl emanating from the back of his throat. "You liked it. You loved it, didn't you? Fucking me. Using me without giving a damn what I wanted. What a power trip, right?" He puffs up, fully in Marty's face, not letting the otter back down or escape. "Shooting your cum up my asshole after bashing my head into the floor. I bet nothing's ever felt better."

"Stop, Ryan, please. It's not true. I regret everything about last night. When I think about what I did I... It's painful."

"Oh, the memory's painful, is it? Do you even hear yourself, you self-centered psychopath? The absolute all encompassing ignorance it takes to say something like that to me is astounding. You're filth. You're a disgusting fucking stain on this world, on my life. That memory's painful for you? Then, please, tell me, what the fuck is it like for me?"

Marty is all tears and incomprehensible noises. He manages to squeeze out an "I'm sorry," before being rendered a blubbering mess all over again.

"Admit it, and you can go. Admit you made the conscious choice to hurt me. Admit you made the conscious choice to rape me." Ryan breathes in deep. Exhales. Breathes in deep. Explodes. "ADMIT IT! YOU FUCKING LOVED IT!" Marty offers only more tears and wordless vocalizations. Ryan isn't having it. He's pushing Marty to his limit. "ADMIT IT, BITCH! ADMIT THAT YOU DECIDED TO HURT ME. ADMIT THAT YOU DECIDED TO RAPE ME. ADMIT THAT YOU FUCKING LOVED IT!"

Marty spreads his arms wide, and makes a dreadful mistake.

He wraps them around Ryan.

"I love you. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry Ryan. I love you. I love you!"

"DON'T_FUCKING_ TOUCH ME!" Ryan roars. The paw that has been in his pocket near-enough this entire time shifts, then stiffens. Instinctively I take a half step forward, then freeze.

That feeling again, that theory, that pang at the edge of my conscious.

What do I-? What is the right-?

Fuck.

I've made so many mistakes. I can't make more. I-

I'm in decision paralysis. My heart is pumping hard. I don't know what to do.

Is this really...?

All of my focus is on Ryan; I'm reading his body language, deriving intent from his eyes. He's scared. Terrified. Of Marty, absolutely, but of something else too.

God, I know what it is, don't I?

It's just a hunch. A reach, based only on perception and instinct, but somehow....

"I love you Ryan. I love you. I love you!" Marty doesn't let go. He holds Ryan in his arms as if the husky is all that's keeping him alive.

I'm all but convinced I know what's about to happen.

The future sprawls out in front of me.

And I'm frozen.

"GET OFF! DON'T FUCKING TOUCH ME!" Ryan yells. Breaking point approaching.

"Get off of him!" Eve shouts.

"Get the fuck off!" Adrian echoes. He's in motion, bounding toward the otter.

"I love you!" Marty yells.

Wrong choice.

Wrong, wrong, wrong choice.

I know what's going to happen.

" DON'T TOUCH ME!" Ryan shrieks. All of him is rage and fear. And hatred.

So much hatred.

Adrian reaches for Marty in an attempt to pull him back, to tug him away from the husky, to de-escalate, but before he can make contact Ryan frees himself from Marty's grasp and shoves the otter hard. Adrian staggers, stops in place, tries to reassess. It's too late.

Marty stumbles back a step, two, but as quickly as he comes apart from the husky they're back together. Ryan closes the gap in an instant. With one paw he grabs the hair on the back of Marty's head. He tugs hard, forcing Marty's face to tilt up in an unnatural, involuntary motion. Ryan's other paw pulls free from his pocket with a glint of reflected light, then presses firm against Marty's exposed neck.

My heart beats, the world mutes.

There's this indescribable instant of stillness in which everyone in the room realizes exactly what is happening. Ryan included.

He considers.

He decides.

He drags his paw across the length of Marty's throat.

Blood spews

Blood

Gasps

Blood

Sharp intakes of breath

Time rewinds.

The cut seals.

Time plays forward.

Blood spews from

Fuck

I

What have I-?

Blood spews from the gash in the otter's throat like a fucking water fountain, drenching his fur, Ryan and the room red.

Gasps. Sharp intakes of breath. It's all we can manage. What we're witnessing, it's-

Ryan drops what he was holding. The now-familiar sight of Adrian's razor glimmers red and silver as it twirls through the air. It hits the floor with barely a clack. As anti-climactic as anything.

A buried memory from last night resurfaces. Marty lies unconscious at my feet. I was-

I was pretty much paralyzed. They were cleaning up the scene. Ryan was packing his stuff. I had dropped that razor blade and...

And Ryan picked it up. I barely even noticed, I wasn't really paying attention. Eve and Adrian were otherwise occupied, they had no idea. I was the only one who saw, but I was out of it, I wasn't storing information. At least I thought I wasn't.

Ryan picked it up and pocketed it.

Now it's here.

Blood spews from the gash in the otter's throat like a-

Marty brings his paws up, attempts to press them against his wound, but his whole body is shaking, trembling. He topples backward, crashing into the floor. The force of his fall causes more blood to spout from him, spraying Ryan in gore.

Ryan isn't the only recipient though. Marty's blood gets all over. It paints the floor, the furniture and even Adrian. Only Eve and I are lucky enough to be spared it's territorial expansion.

Marty attempts to breathe in an awful, tortured wheeze, the living equivalent of an engine stalling. For a moment I'm convinced he's trying to speak, but all that comes out is a gurgle and a gasp.

He's putting pressure on his wound as best he can, but he's weak. There's no hard seal. Blood seeps between his fingers. He's barely in control of his body, his life is literally draining out of him drop by drop.

He is dying, right in front of us, but he's not dead.

He's struggling to breathe, struggling to do anything, attempting to survive, but his blood keeps on oozing out. He expels a panicked monosyllabic sound that reads to me as a cry for help.

He is dying, right in front of us, but he's not dead.

We're all standing still, staring at him. All of us occupying a shared, traumatic now. All of us locked in an abject and paralyzing terror. All of us doing nothing.

Marty is not yet dead, but he is dying.

Not one of us is moving a muscle to save him.

I-

I saw this coming. Not in exact terms. Not every detail. But I saw this coming. I can say it was little more than a guess, nothing more than intuition, but that doesn't change a thing. I saw this coming, and I did nothing.

I let it happen.

Marty continues to struggle for breath, making terrible sounds at irregular intervals. Maybe some air is getting in, but not much. His focus drifts between the four of us as blood runs through his fur, drips down the sides of his neck, pools on the floor.

He's dying, but he isn't dead.

Is he wondering why none of us are moving? Why none of us are speaking? Is he wondering why nobody is calling an ambulance? Why nobody is doing a thing to stem his bleeding?

His eyes are wide and strained, almost popping out of his skull. He's afraid. So afraid. He's in pain. So much pain.

His gaze settles, inevitably, on Ryan. He searches the husky's eyes for a glimmer of hope.

Ryan is shuddering, shaking, but not moving, not speaking. His eyes relay all kinds of information, none of it good.

Marty searches. And searches.

He finds nothing.

And gives up.

He lets his paws fall, leaving his wound uncovered. Tears drip down the sides of his face. His eyes close. His doomed death-gasps shallow, stagger and then dissipate completely. All tension leaves his body.

One beat.

Two.

A dozen.

Nothing.

Still nothing.

It's obvious to all of us.

He's dead.

Nobody says a word. Nobody breaks formation.

It feels impossible to speak.

We all know what just happened. The four of us stood there and watched a man die.

Ryan may have held the blade, but we all played a part in Marty's death.

It may be the case that we couldn't have saved his life, regardless of our actions, but the fact remains: we didn't try.

God, I feel dizzy, unstable. This is a lot. It's too much. It's way, way, way too much.

Ryan doubles over and vomits.

I get an impulse to do the same, but I don't. I don't move. I don't speak. I don't do anything.

Ryan finishes heaving and straightens up.

He looks between us, gaunt and afraid, covered in blood.

Eve clears her throat and shakes her head.

"We all saw that, didn't we?" She asks. Instantly, all our eyes are on her. Hers are very much elsewhere. She stares at the blood pooling under Marty's corpse as it gradually advances across her dining room floor. "It was self defense, plain and simple."

It's eerie how easily we all agree.

By the time an ambulance arrives our story is airtight.