There are too many slices to count, weeping red from both of her arms. She can’t have cut herself that long ago if she’s still conscious, but it’s pouring out of her too fast. So much blood. I’m losing her. “I made it stop.” She sniffles. I gulp hard. “Made what stop, baby?” Shrugging my jacket off, I wrap Brooklyn up and lift her into my arms again. Panic rules my every thought. All I can think to do is fix her, no matter what it takes. Her head lands on my chest, her nose burrowing into my neck as she shudders a pained breath. “Everything. The world. Voices. Guilt.” “You have nothing to be
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