It was a sad fucking fact that Curtis was lonely. Had been lonely for most of his life. It was loneliness by design. Self inflicted. He fucking hated himself too much to drag anyone else under with him, and even allowing himself relief, like so many of the others did, carried with it an unbearable weight of guilt.

Teeth clinched, his eyes fluttered shut, and for a moment, he did nothing but lie there, his hand curled tight in the sheets.