I finished and gazed at her. She simply stared straight ahead. My throat tightened as I thought of Stitches locked away and medicated in his hospital room. Of the pain in Church’s voice when we’d taken Stitches out of his closet. How Church had held her when we’d found her. How he’d fucking begged for her to be OK. The desperation I felt in my heart to get her back to us so our world could heal. So she could heal. I shuffled forward and pressed my lips to hers, kissing her gently. Please, heaven, come back. PLEASE!
