Predicament
She had never seen a nasty mask like the one on Mark's face.
Simply put, "Because I could," he said.
"I wanted to prove to you and myself that you are nothing. Joan, you're not unique. You weren't. Another girl who believed she could fit in somewhere she doesn't belong is you."
Joan got up, her legs trembling so violently that she had to hold onto the table's edge for balance.
As she struggled to comprehend the magnitude of what he was saying, the room seemed to spin, and everything around her felt unreal.
All of this was false. None of it had been genuine, not even the dinners, the support, or the hushed words of encouragement.
It was a meticulously planned performance meant to give her a sense of security and affection, only to be torn away from her when she least expected it.
She whispered, "I had cared about you; I thought you were for real." Tears ran down her cheeks, and her voice cracked.
"I trusted you."