Chapter 97 The Story: The Guilt

• Darren slipped quietly into Clara’s hospital room. She was asleep, her breathing soft and steady. Relief tugged at him, but it did little to ease the pounding in his chest. He set the duffel down carefully, as though it might explode, then moved into the small restroom and shut the door behind him.
• He dropped onto the seat, buried his face in his hands. His mind was a storm, replaying every sound, every flash of light, every scream inside his own head. The man’s face against the steering wheel. The blood. The stillness.
• A part of him wanted to vomit. Another part whispered that he should be proud; he hadn’t frozen, he hadn’t failed. He had done what he needed to do.