months and months, they’re not out of the woods.
There’s still the risk of infection. She got one. She
died. End of story.”
But it wasn’t.
“Tell me the rest.”
She shook her head, dipped her chin and let her
long hair fall forward to hide her expression.
Dagan cupped her face, his palms on her cheeks. He
made her look at him. Made her face him. Her pain was
terrible. Soul deep. He could see it.
“Tell me the rest,” he ordered softly.
“I stood there beside her bed,” she whispered. “I
picked up the pillow. She was looking at me. Her eyes
were beautiful. Her face was beautiful. She was burned
almost everywhere except her face. She didn’t move.
Just smiled at me. Like she was glad to finally go.”
“You ended her pain,” Dagan said.
Tears welled in her tiger-bright eyes, spilled over
onto her cheeks, pooled at the corner of her mouth.
“The person I am now would have. The person I was
then… I couldn’t do it. I didn’t love her enough or I
wasn’t brave enough or I told myself she could still
make it, still win…or maybe I was just too selfish,
wanting a few more hours, more days until I was alone
again. Whatever the reason, I put the pillow down. She
begged me, ‘Don’t,’ but I did. Then I sat by her bed, and
I let her live. For four more torturous, horrific days,
where every breath was an agony, every second an
eternity, four days where Iknewshe was going to die in
the end…those four days of hell are on me because I let
