Page 111 of Danger

I sit. I hate this goddamn room. I hate the noises of the machines. The smell. I hate everything except her, and I barely let myself look at her face, because if I do, I’ll break.

But I take her hand, careful, like I’m holding glass.

“Winnie,” I say. She doesn’t flinch.

I try again, softer. “Win. We need to talk. I know you probably can’t hear me. I’m gonna talk anyway.”

I close my eyes. My voice is gone, but I force it out.

“I’m sorry.”

The words aren't enough.

“They'll never be enough.”

My thumb brushes over her knuckles.

“I should have stopped you.”

The confession scrapes its way out of my chest.

“I should have made you stay long enough to have the conversation you deserved.”

I shake my head.

“Instead, I let you leave.”

The monitors keep beeping.

Steady.

Unforgiving.

“I told myself maybe it was what you needed. That it was time to let you go because you'd be better off without me.”

A laugh catches in my throat.

“But I can't.”

Every ounce of fight drains out of me.

“I grew up thinking it was my responsibility to stand between the people I love and everything that could hurt them. I took the punches, the hits, the blame. I did whatever I had to. If something bad happens, I take it. If someone gets hurt, I step in. If there's a burden, it's mine. I thought there wasn't anything that could ever break me.” My voice cracks. “Until you got hurt.”

I squeeze her hand.

“I don't know if you'll ever forgive me.”

Silence.

“I don't even know if I deserve it.”

Another breath.

“But if you wake up…”

My eyes burn.

“I'll tell you everything.”