Among my life's many regrets, one weighs heaviest on my heart. I failed to be there for my mother in her darkest hour. I was powerless to save her, left only to witness her fading light.
That image of hers had stuck in my head for a very long time. The sight of her bleeding, gazing at me helplessly and powerlessly as she fought for life.
That image now I saw on Mary. I have broken her, and I have watched her give up. Her skin is very pale, and her eyes lifelessly stare back at me. She is dying, and I made her that way. I know I did.
When she spoke those words I wanted, I thought I would be happy, but no. It only filled me with guilt. This brought me down to a pace as I vowed not to force anything on her anymore. I was never scared after my mother died, but at that moment, I was scare
