“Can you tell me about it?” he asks, his hands warm on my jaw. I hold his wrist to keep him here, not wanting him to break away from me just yet. “You know what happened,” I whisper. “You were there.” I’ve repeated it to my therapist before, and it still feels the same. It still feels like the past, but why does it constantly creep up to scare me? I want to let it go. I’ve tried to let it go, but it won’t let go of me. “Just two sentences, Dais.” As I remember the event, cold washes over me, and I shiver. He draws me closer to his body.
