Page 55 of Insidious

“I’m scared of myself, Colin. I feel fine now. But what happens when I get home?” That’s the truth. “I’m scared I’ll hurt her. Or worse, neglect her again.” My voice drops to a whisper. “I don’t deserve her.”

The silence stretches. And then—

“Do you remember the kitchen?”

I blink.

What?

I look up at him.

He’s watching me steadily.

“The endless dishes,” he says. “We nearly drowned in soap.”

A broken sound escapes me.

“That’s not—”

“You remember what you did when you saw my scars?”

How could I forget? He doesn’t look away.

“I told you to leave it,” he continues quietly. “I told you to drop it.”

“You didn’t,” he continues. “You grabbed me, and you didn’t let go.” His voice softens. “You made me stay. You made me get help.”

My vision blurs.

“Do you know what I had planned that day?” he asks.

I shake my head slowly.

“A rope in the back of my car,” he says plainly. “Or maybe just cutting deeper this time. Not … halfway like before.”

“Colin—”

“I’d already decided,” he says, not letting me interrupt. “I just needed to get home.” His eyes hold mine. “And then you stopped me.”

My throat closes, thinking about how chance saved his life.

“You didn’t fix everything in that moment,” he says, his eyes far off. “It wasn’t some miracle. I still needed medication. Therapy. Months of dragging myself out of that hole.” He shrugs slightly. “But you were the thing that made me pause and wonder if there was a better way.”

My eyes burn.

“You held me together long enough for me to get help. You were strong enough to hold me together. You saved my life.”

My voice comes out small. “I don’t feel strong now.”

He huffs softly. “Yeah. No one ever does when they’re in it.”

I shake my head. “I’m not—”

“You are,” he says, firm now, his hands tight over mine. “You just can’t see it right now because you are too close. But you will.”

I look away. He pulls the chair a little closer and pulls my hands into his.

“Everyone has bad days, Luna,” he says. “You’ve had a bad few weeks.”