“Victor,” I say, my hands sliding down the bars of my cell as I sink to the floor. He’s just across the short aisle from me, but with these metal bars between us…
He might as well be a world away. I am desperate to go to him, touch him, help him – but I can’t.
He doesn’t say a word in response, but I can see him breathing, his breath fast and shallow. I press on.
“Victor, I’m so sorry –“
“No,” he says, interrupting me. His word is light – so light – but I hear the intensity in it, even if it’s barely audible.
I see him work to move then, to turn towards me and look at my face, but I also see him flinch, hear the hiss of breath that escapes from his mouth.
“Don’t,” I say, reaching out a hand towards him to stop him – ridiculously, as if I could touch him, stop him. “Please, Victor –
