“I have,” she said, and I felt a pang at the thought of her suffering. “And I’d take fire any day over an eternity of closing my eyes and seeing their deaths.” Her voice trilled with the sort of sadness that was soul deep, buried in her very essence—creating a woman who would never be whole again. My heart ached, and I had to offer whatever comfort I could. “If I could ease your demons,” I said, reaching out and placing my hand on hers, “I would do it. Even at cost to myself. And I hope that one day your torments settle, and you find a semblance of peace.” I had demons of my own, and maybe
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