But I've been here before.
I've made promises before, and I've broken every single one of them.
"Stop." Garrett squeezes my hand. "I can hear you thinking. Whatever you're telling yourself right now, stop."
"You don't know what I'm thinking."
"Yeah, I do." He leans forward, his eyes finding mine. "You're thinking about all the ways you've fucked up. All the people you've hurt. You're thinking maybe it would be easier for everyone if you just?—"
"Don't." The word comes out sharp. Desperate. "Don't say it."
"Then don't think it." His grip on my hand tightens almost to the point of pain. "You're here. You're alive. Our baby is alive. That's all that matters right now. Everything else—the guilt, the shame, the making amends—that comes later. Right now, you just focus on healing."
I nod, but the words feel hollow. Everything feels hollow.
That's the problem with trauma, I'm learning.
It doesn't just hurt your body.
It hollows you out from the inside, leaves you feeling like a shell of yourself, like the person you used to be died in that cabin and what's left is just going through the motions.
"I need to tell you something," Garrett says. His voice has changed—softer now, almost hesitant. "About Virgil."
My whole body goes rigid.
"You don't have to?—"
"He's dead." The words come out flat. Final. "I killed him. With my hands. I made it slow, and I made it hurt, and I'm not sorry."
I stare at him.
I should feel something, shouldn't I? Relief, maybe. Satisfaction. Closure.
But all I feel is numb.
"Good," I hear myself say. "I'm glad."
Garrett nods.
He doesn't ask if I'm okay, doesn't push for more of a reaction.
He just holds my hand and lets the silence stretch between us, comfortable and warm.
That's one of the things I love about him.
He never tries to fill the quiet.
He just... exists beside me, solid and steady, an anchor in the storm.
I must fall asleep again, because the next thing I know, the light has changed and there's a different voice in the room.
"—don't care what the doctor says, I'm not leaving until I see her."
Tildie.
I open my eyes to find her arguing with a nurse in the doorway, her hair wild around her face, her eyes red-rimmed and swollen.
She looks like she hasn't slept any more than Garrett has.
