There’s no magical healing in this. I won’t wake up tomorrow fixed and joyful. I’ll still hurt and grieve. But moments like this, with Colton? They make it all bearable. He doesn't fix me, doesn't heal me. He just makes life worthwhile. He helps me remember to breathe, shows me how to smile again. He kisses me, and I can forget pain, forget the urges I still have to cut for the pain that erases the emotions.

You can’t hold it in forever,” Colton said, apropos of nothing. “Yes, I can.” I had to. “You’ll go crazy. It’ll come out, one way or another.” “Better crazy than broken.” I wasn't sure where that came from, hadn't thought it or meant to say it. “You’re not broken. You’re hurting.

I did answer. I said a little. I'm afraid of what you can do. I mean, I feel safe with you, though. I know you’d never hurt me.” I take her face in my hands. It’s too familiar, too affectionate, too soon. I can’t help it, though. “Just the opposite. I will protect you. From others and from yourself. Always.” “Why?” Barely audible. “Because I want to. Because…” I struggle to find the right words. “Because you deserve it, and you need it.” “No, I don’t.

It’s not okay,” I tell her. This gets her attention; it’s not what she was expecting. “You don’t have to be okay.” “What do you want from me?” Her voice is ragged, desperate. “I want you to let yourself be broken. Let yourself hurt.” She shakes her head again. “I can’t. If I let it out, it’ll never stop.” “Yes, it will.

I respect the hell out of her for how hard she’s working to be okay. I just wish she’d let me show her how to let go, how to let herself hurt. I want to take her pain.