“Make it stop.”
She laughs humorlessly. “I can’t.”
“I don’t want to be arrested for murder.”
A pause – he thinks for a moment. “I could help make it look like I did it. Or like it was an accident.”
She stares and realizes that he’s completely serious.
“Why can’t you?”
“I’m too weak.”
Another bleak laugh; “You’re too strong.”
Silence. Neither knows where to go from there. Neither can fully grasp the situation; neither can grasp the reality of it all. They’re at a standstill. She’s finally understanding it and he begins to think that maybe he shouldn’t have told her.
“How bad is it?” Her voice was never quite that soft before.
“Horrible. Terrible. The worst.”
“… I’m sorry.”
“Not your fault.”
The silence isn’t comfortable; it doesn’t settle – it suffocates. His heart’s aching and tearing in his chest and she wants nothing more than to make it better. She knows real pain and he doesn’t deserve it, he really doesn’t.
“You’ll be okay,” she tries to reassure him.
“You don’t know that.”
“I feel so weak.”
She’s never seen him cry before. It’s beautiful and heartbreaking all at once. She doesn’t know what to do. He hates that he’s letting her see this, but he knows he can’t stop it. He’s been holding it in for far too long now and it needs to come out – whether he wants it to or not.