All the justifications I’ve built in my head still don’t stand up against the guilt, though. It’s like throwing pebbles at a stone wall. They just bounce off, useless.
Did he have a wife? Did he have children? What kind of music did he like?
I take a deep breath and try throwing my pebbles again.
If you hadn’t stabbed him, he would have killed Artem.
I take another breath. It doesn’t help much.
He was dead. But you kept stabbing him. Why did you keep stabbing him?
I look at Artem with a start.
“You went somewhere dark,” he says softly.
I feel tears at the corners of my eyes. “I… I’m fine.”
“Do you want to talk about it?”
I open my mouth, but I shut it again just as quickly. “I think… not just yet.”
“I’ll be here when you change your mind.”
I feel so incredibly grateful that I r
