Deirdre was hysterical. She lunged and pounded her fists on him in a post-traumatic fit. “Are you happy now? Huh? Are you finally satisfied now!? Nothing pleases you more than seeing me humiliated and dehumanized and suffering from a nervous breakdown, doesn’t it, you demon!? If you hate me so much—if you hate me this much—then why didn’t you let me die and rot in prison!? Let me die with my child, and I wouldn’t have to suffer all of your torment for no f*cking reason!”

Brendan froze. It felt like a million thorns were stabbing his chest simultaneously, stinging him so much that his teeth chattered. It hurt, yet he could not even garner the strength to voice it.

It took him a while to reel out of that pain. He threw his arms around her and squeezed her as tightly as he could, as though he was worried that she might vanish if he did not. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry… I should have protected you.”

He was muttering to himself as pain ravaged him.

“You’re sorry?” It was a scoff. What an abs