"But I need to rest first."
"I need to eat and sleep and remember how to be a person."
"I hope you understand."
"I hope you're not angry."
"I hope you're still waiting for me."
No answer.
There was never an answer.
But for the first time in weeks, the silence didn't feel like abandonment.
It felt like permission.
Permission to rest.
Permission to heal.
Permission to become something new.
I closed my eyes, and the darkness behind my lids was soft and warm, and I let myself drift.
Not sleep.
Not yet.
But close.
Closer than I'd been in weeks.
The Lost Hours.
Matt.
The bar.
The basement.
A chance.
It wasn't home.
But it was something.
And something was more than I'd had in a long time.
"Thank you, Daddy."
The whisper was barely a breath.
"Thank you for leading me here."
"Thank you for not leaving me completely alone."
"Thank you for..."
