When Jon woke up in the morning he couldn’t say why, but he felt great. Better than he had in a long time in fact. He sighed contentedly as he got out of bed before giving in to vertigo, and falling out of bed with a thump. Why did he feel dizzy and hungover? What had happened yesterday?

He found that he couldn’t recall much of anything from the previous day. Something about walking through a fog filled with angry shadows? No, that must have been a dream he was having. Confused, he shook his head as he attempted to stand up. On the third try he had managed to clear enough of the dizziness to stand properly, and walked out into the living room.

Danica was there, sitting on his couch looking like an unfriendly apparition. Her face was pale, with deep bags under her eyes, and her hands shook as she sipped from a cup of tea. Her expression was distant and blank as if something had overwhelmed the processing power of her brain. He cleared his throat, and said “good morning?”

Her head whipped around at that, her blank expression replaced by one of fear. She trembled harder, and some of the tea sloshed out of her cup. Confused, he asked “what… what’s wrong?”

Her expression went hard, as she said “do you remember anything about yesterday?”

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He shook his head, dumbfounded. “You raped me. You got high on some kind of gas, you thought I was your dead wife, and you raped me!”

Shaking, he shook his head “no, I- that’s not- I couldn’t- what?”

As he said this she broke down, dropping her cup of tea, forgotten, onto the carpet as she curled up into a ball on the couch. As he moved to comfort her, she screamed “DON’T YOU FUCKING COME NEAR ME.” He backed off hurriedly, and stood in silence as she continued to cry into the couch. Finally she sniffed and looked at him again.

“Do you know what it’s like to be broken by the man you put on a pedestal?”

All he could do was mutely shake his head while a look of horror at what he had done glued itself to his face.

“Do you know what it’s like when someone you trust and respect violates you so utterly, and you can’t even be mad because it’s not really their fault?”

He could only shake his head again.

She stood up, and collected what little she had. “Don’t call me. If I want to talk I’ll call you. Don’t try to find me or get in touch with me. I can’t handle it right now.”

With that, she walked out the door, and didn’t look back. He could only watch as she walked away down the street, cognizant that the sway her steps normally had was gone. He collapsed into the couch, and couldn’t bring himself to stand up again for several hours. When he did stand up, it was with a new glint of determination in his eyes.