All the pain; the destruction of a life that had been so beautiful and held such promise. And for what? Because of five minutes. Three hundred seconds. Because Holt took the world on his shoulders and couldn’t release that Superman mentality. Five minutes had cost me a lifetime of happiness—or maybe Holt’s stubborn bullheadedness had. As livid as I was with him, my heart broke for Holt, too. The weight he carried was clearly crushing him. It had cost him his home, his family. Me. And for what? So he could play the noble, tortured hero?
