What's Done is Done
I didn’t expect him to tell me he had had sex with that boy. I wasn’t even sure I would have ever wanted him to tell me that detail.
No, I thought wearily as unsolicited images flooded my mind, I didn’t want to know that.
But what’s done is done, right?
“Please Ally,” John begged into the phone, “I can’t lose him.”
I glanced at the clock. 2 AM. My eyes, which had been threatening to close and allow my brain to drift off into a peaceful slumber only moments before, were now wide open and staring straight ahead into my dark room. I sighed tiredly.
“Ally?” John questioned, an unfamiliar nervous edge in his voice.
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