the recovery project [2]

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everett

fiona has been staring at the ground for what feels like hours now, and he's concerned. he doesn't know what to do. "fi?"

she snaps out of it, dark brown eyes glancing up at his. "what?"

he squeezes her hand, kissing it softly before setting it on the warmth of his lap. "talk to me? how... how are you feeling?"

"shitty."

he doesn't know what to say. "... i'm sorry about elijah. what you two had was—"

"don't," she switches her gaze to stare out of the window, but he notices how her eyes water. "i killed him. i should be in prison rotting for murder. i mean, i'm a fucking monster—"

"you aren't," he shakes his head and holds her hands. "you aren't a monster."

"i should have been the one to die in that accident," she sobs.

everett holds her in a hug so tight that he's pretty sure he's hurting her, but all she does is cry even harder against him.

death won't seem to let her say goodbye.