'The friend who can be silent with us in a moment of despair or confusion, who can stay with us in an hour of grief and bereavement, who can tolerate not knowing... not healing, not curing... that is a friend who cares,' - Henri Nouwen.
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My fingers continue to trace the written letters, as if I don't they will disappear and then I will truly have lost him.
I didn't see it. I failed to see the signs. Had I just...
"What do you mean he wrote it?" Emory whispers beside me. He hasn't moved a muscle either like he too knows this significant moment means something.
I squeeze my eyes shut, wanting to scream at the ignorance I had stubbornly swaddled me in like a blanket. If only I had faced the truth.
"Why didn't I... see it?" I breathe silently, letting my anxiety manifest through the words. "It was right there in his eyes." If I had just stopped for a minute to down myself in my own self-pity and self doubt, I would have seen the truth, and yet... I didn't.
"The things he said, like the girl, she was there, yet, he wasn't sure. And he didn't..."
"What Davina?" a part of me registers the way his senses spike by the way he urges me to continue.
"He didn't remember what happened in the woods," The words comes as a quiver, though I stand up in a hurry. "He said he didn't remember," I iterate as I run through the house, needing to find some evidence of the impossible.
Getting to the kitchen table, I sweep my hand over the burnt mark indenting the handcrafted table, before letting it trail over the finish, wanting to see the stain the nightshade must have caused, however it isn't there, just like the moon is no longer filled with blood.
"Davina?" Emory guards me again with scared hesitation, as I scratch helplessly at the table.
"She was here, I know she was," I persist as I look up at Emory, before looking back out the window.
"You should go get some rest, it's been a long day."
"No."
He sighs, "Davina."
"No," I grit my teeth as I sweep past him, however he stops me by grabbing my arm.
"The sun is about to set. It's not safe out there."
I purse my lips, finding a string of courage I didn't even thought I could contain anymore. "He didn't remember, not until..." I shake my head as the words won't come out, "He did remember in the end, and I'm gonna prove none of us are losing our mind," I say, not even caring that I don't make sense anymore.
