"I'm sorry…"
Her voice was small. Cracked.
Even though she couldn't see, Janet knew he was bleeding. She had hurt him. Again.
And it was killing her.
Charles said nothing at first. Just held her tighter.
The regret in her voice burned deeper than the bite in his flesh.
She wasn't just hurting herself anymore—she was dragging him down into the darkness with her.
"It's me who should be sorry," he whispered. "If it hurts, you have to tell me. Scream. Cry. Just don't shut me out. I'm here, Janet. I'm always here."
He brushed away the tears from her face with the back of his bloodied hand.
No matter how she lashed out—
As long as she was still holding on.
As long as she still remembered him—
He could take it.
"I… I can't tell dreams from reality anymore…"
She nestled closer to his chest, breathing in the scent she had memorized long ago.
Charles.
Her Charles.
Time had become shapeless.
Every day blended into the next, and her world had been pitch black for so long now.
