I feel the monster of grief again, writhing in the empty space where my heart and stomach used to be. I gasp, pressing both palms to my chest. Now the monstrous thing has its claws around my throat, squeezing my airway. I twist and put my head between my knees, breathing until the strangled feeling leaves me.

I am afraid that if I start to sob, I will never stop until I shrivel up like a raisin.

Caleb,' I say. 'I love you.

I think we cry to release the animal parts of us without losing our humanity. Because
inside me is a beast that snarls, and growls, and strains toward freedom, toward Tobias, and, above
all, toward life. And as hard as I try, I cannot kill it.

You don't have to tell me everything right away, but I have to tell you everything right away? Can't you see how stupid that is?

I know my head isn't screwed on straight. I want to leave, transfer, warp myself to another galaxy. I want to confess everything, hand over the guilt and mistake and anger to someone else. There is a beast in my gut, I can hear it scraping away at the inside of my ribs. Even if I dump the memory, it will stay with me, staining me. My closest is a good thing, a quiet place that helps me hold these thoughts inside my head where no one can hear them.