138 Furthest Thing from an Angel

- RAYA -

Once we're inside the house, Dex closes the door and stays poised there against it without turning. He's exhausted and overwhelmed with grief and relieved to be home—I can tell just by the slump of his shoulders and the way he remains there, unmoving, unable yet to turn and face anything else. He's letting the relief wash over him. Now the outside world and everything in it is safely on the other side of those double doors. 

I walk up behind him and place a palm against his back, hoping my touch is some kind of comfort amidst the storm of emotions. Dex sighs again, and his head drops against the wood. 

I want to ask him what I can do to help, but I know it's a stupid question. Instead, I wrap both of my arms around him and stay like that, hugging him from behind. He feels different than he did two days ago, and yet somehow he also feels the same—like a permanent shift has happened inside. 

"I wish I could fix it," I say softly.