She left La Push in pieces.
Now she's back-medicated, monitored, and haunted by more than just her past.
When Grace returns after six months in a psych ward, she wants one thing: peace.
But the voices in her head have other plans.
So does Paul Lahot...
For a moment I'm speechless. In my head, I'd already prepared myself for a lecture, maybe even a fight. Instead he almost sounds... proud?
He sits down on the old toolbox in the corner, watching me quietly. "You know, Grace... I've been thinking a lot lately."
"You can think?"
He just rolls his eyes at me and continues. "About the past. About... you and me." His voice drops, softer now. "And I wanted to apologize. I know I let you down. Especially when you needed me the most. I just... I was scared. I didn't say anything because I was so afraid it could backfire on me. That was pathetic and selfish, I know. But I was a kid. It's not an excuse or even a solid reason, but that's the truth."
His words hit me harder than I expect. I don't know what to say. All I can think about is:
"I was a child too."
He looks stricken and nods. "I know. That's the worst part. I saw how they treated you. And I didn't do anything. I was a coward." He shakes his head, jaw tight. Then he takes my hands in his and looks me straight in the eyes. "I'll do anything for your forgiveness. Even if it means begging on my knees for the rest of my life."
My eyes fill with tears. My thoughts are racing. I cant feel my hands trembling and a lump in my throat. Finally, I take a deep breath. "I can't say that I forgive you. Not yet. But I will, someday. You're my brother. The most important person in my life. I love you."
He pulls me in a tight hug, his head resting on my shoulder, quietly crying. "Don't forgive me right away. Take your time. Be angry. Be sad. You deserve it. I'll be there when you're ready."
A sad smile spreads across my face. For a moment, it's just us. Siblings. Twins. Crying in each other's arms over the past.
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The house is quiet when I finally crawl into bed. My muscles ache from training, and my eyes burn from crying. I pull the blanket tight around me; the cold winter air makes me shiver. I close my eyes and let the night consume me.
At first, it's only darkness. A weightless drift. Then the darkness folds into shape.
Cold tiles beneath my bare feet. White walls that hum with fluorescent light, too bright, too sterile. The air smells faintly of metal and bleach, and somewhere far down the corridor, a girl screams.
I know this place. Even without memory, my body recognizes it. The ward. In my memory, it was always warm, almost welcoming. This feels like the complete opposite.
My pulse races, uneven, a drumbeat of fear.
Then I feel it. Not the room. Not the walls. Her.
She's there, only a few steps away, standing in the same bleak corridor. The light overhead catches in her hair, softening the harsh white glow. She doesn't speak, doesn't move closer, but her presence alone is enough to cut through the frost around me.
