The more of these I write, the more I feel the hopelessness, the despair and ache left behind by a world crumbled to ash.

West is spinning back and forth in my chair. These Interviews aren’t going as planned. Zuri demoned out on me—Tristan broke down—West. I roll my eyes.

“Can you give me my chair back?”

He rolling my pen over in his hand. There is a glint in his eye and I feel like I’m losing my grip on him. He’s spiraling out of control and I’m more terrified of what he’ll do than my worst day with Tristan.

“West?”

He looks up. The look is dangerous. I’m so used to him being so light-hearted and free. I don’t know who he is like this.

I exhale. “I just want to—“ Why am I even doing these interviews?

“Change it.”

“I can’t.” I say before he’s even done talking. They all want me to stop it. But what did they expect? I don’t even know what will happen, not exactly—not yet.

He smiles and the hair stands up one my neck.

Before I can say another word he grabs onto my desk and flips it.  I jump back as papers go everywhere. The crash of it echoes with my heart beats. I don’t know what he’s capable of and all I know is I don’t want him here. Not when he’s like this.

He stares at me, standing as the chair swivels behind him. “Then I will.”

I close my eyes as he walks past me and out the door. I slide down the wall of my office. Jesus.