Talking to a wall wouldn't be this frustrating. I felt foolish for getting worked up over Simon. I wheezed and glared at him.

<…What the hell does that have to do with you?>Whether I was speechless or not, Simon diligently went about his business. He wiped his forearm and elbow, then moved to his other hand and began cleaning between his fingers again, meticulously. I mumbled helplessly. I always thought of Simon as a nerd, but this time, no matter how eccentric I was, I couldn't follow his train of thought. Well, there are all these crazy people out there. They reunited after several years and raped each other, threatened to cut out her tongue, caught her when she ran away, and had others gang rape her, only to be jealous of a guy like Matt? Because I'm your lover? I was shocked and my nose was stuffy.

Simon ignored those words indifferently. The anger that had been extinguished was rekindled. I was so angry that my whole body was shaking.

This time, I was speechless, unable to say anything. Simon seemed to genuinely believe that. I was wrong, so I deserved the punishment I deserved.Where and how should I begin to tell him? Will he understand if I tell him? Will he convince me if I explain? My body still trembled, but Simon remained calm. He was a different kind of lunatic than Jerome. I had no idea how to deal with Simon's madness, and I could never understand him.After wiping his arms, Simon turned around and began wiping my back. He meticulously cleaned the nape of my neck, shoulders, back, armpits, and sides. Simon's hands, occasionally brushing against my skin, were warm and soft. Strangely enough, under his calm, gentle touch, my trembling gradually subsided.

Simon answered without a second's hesitation. The unexpected clarity of the answer caught him off guard. He was even more bewildered when he said it with his own mouth.

Every time the cold, wet towel touched me, I flinched. Simon gently stroked my warm hand, as if to reassure me, and then carefully dried me. The silence continued. I found him creepy. On the other hand, he seemed like a ridiculous fool.

Naked, my wrists bound, lying alone on the mattress prepared solely for rape, I wept, remembering the friend I had killed. I don't remember a thing, but the friend I killed, my only friend, that poor boy... In that moment of mourning and remembrance for that boy for the first time, I felt so base and shameful. This was me. This was me.

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