“It’s okay. You don’t need to explain it to me.”
His eyes close again. “I don’t deserve you.”
“And yet, somehow, you have me anyway.”
He snorts—a half laugh, half sob.
“Can Iget you anything?” I ask.
“Will you stay with me?”
I hesitate. He notices.
“Please?”
Giving in is easier than I want to admit. I step into the room but leave the door open. Eli scoots over, making space for me. I’m already changed into shorts and one of his T-shirts, so I slide under the covers beside him.
It’s a little awkward. We lie side by side, not touching, not talking.
Then he reaches out between us, intertwining our fingers.
He doesn’t pull me closer. He doesn’t say anything. But that small contact—it’s enough. It’s everything.
“Last time, you said you saw blood. Go back to that image. What else do you see?”
Left. Right. Left. Right.
Eli’s eyes track my fingers. Then he lifts them to me, pleading. “I don’t want to do this anymore. Please don’t make me.”
“Avoidance is what kept this memory buried in the first place,” I say gently. “The only way to uncover the truth is to keep going.”
I watch him as his gaze bounces across my movements.Left. Right. Left. Right.As I do, I can’t help but wonder if I’m digging for the truth to help him, or to find a version of the story that lets me stay in his bed. Because, if he’s a murderer, I’m a monster for loving him. If he’s a victim, then I can be his saviour. I’m not just acting as a therapist—I’m uncovering his history so I can keep my future.
Maybe I’m the most dangerous person in the room.
“I don’t know if I want the truth.”
I don’t break my rhythm, even though every instinct screams to take his hands and soothe him. “I’m here. We’re in thistogether.”
“What if you leave?”
It takes everything in me not to snap at him that yesterday he was begging me to leave, but instead I repeat: “I’m not going anywhere.”
He nods at last, dragging in a shaky breath, refocusing on the taps against his legs.
“When you think of the blood,” I ask, “where do you feel it in your body?”
“My hands feel sticky.”
“You mentioned laughter before. Can you still hear it?”
A shiver runs through him. “No. There’s just screaming.”
“Who is screaming?”
“She was supposed to be mine,” he whispers.
“Eli. Who is screaming?”