Alexandra sat with her back pressed to the wall, with her knees drawn close. She felt the coolness of the structure even through her clothes.
The voices reached her. Soft, careful voices, lowered out of worry, the kind people used when they thought love could cushion the weight of what they were saying.
They loved her. She knew that. Every word carried it, every pause, every hesitation when they spoke her name, as if it might break if they said it too loudly.
They talked about helping her, about fixing what had been shattered, about how they didn't know how to make her whole again but desperately wanted to try.
That was what hurt the most.
Whole again.
The phrase lodged itself in her chest and refused to move. Her throat tightened as emotions flooded in all at once. Gratitude, shame, fear, a crushing sense of being broken beyond repair.
She didn't want to be a problem they had to solve. She didn't want to be something missing pieces.
