When Brayson wakes up, he can feel cold fingers on his cuts.
He is still between the concrete wall and Zoe's back. When he shifts a bit, Zoe looks up at him.
She picks up her wrists, which are covered in tiny welts of picked skin, and lifts his wrists so they're beside hers.
"Did you do this to yourself?" Zoe asks, her slim thumb tracing the largest slit.
He's about to respond, but the words seem to get caught in his throat.
He clears his throat and nods.
"Yes."
Zoe is unsure why, but his confirmation feels like a knife to her chest.
"Why?"
Zoe knows she should not be asking that question, for fear of her heart b r e a k i n g, but she does it anyway.
"Well, why do you harm yourself?" Brayson asks Zoe and she responds without hesitation; "I think that there are bugs under my skin, so I try to pick them out."
Brayson feels his heart contract, but he pushes the feeling away.
"Well, I think there are demons in my body, so I slice my skin to get them out." Brayson explains in a way where Zoe can potentially see a connection.
"We all have our own demons, Brayson. Remember that."
"But you'll help me, right?" Brayson asks quietly, and remembering his previous words, Zoe nods, "Until the sun dies, Brayson."