Carl didn't say anything, but tears streamed down his face. They stained the white sheet of his pillow as he stared at the ceiling. He could feel Laurel's hand holding his, but aside from that, he felt numb again.
"I don't want to die," Carl said. "I thought you would come if I did this."
"You know how foolish that was, right? You hurt yourself, and you hurt me, too."
"I know." Carl lifted his free arm to cover his face. "I know." His voice turned into a whisper. "Without you there, that place is not like home anymore."
Laurel squeezed his hand tightly, but she didn't say anything. Carl didn't need a response; he needed to vent what he felt.
He kept bottling up everything: the guilt, the anger, the shame, the sadness… He didn't know how to mourn the family that he once had.
