I don't want to talk about it, just want to fall to pieces

Twice now he'd broken down in front of someone else, twice now they'd come to comfort him even if he didn't deserve it, even if he'd resented them. And just as he had in his father's embrace Emile couldn't help but feel like that was the tipping point. There was so much he wanted to tell her, realized she needed to know but none of it was rising to his lips. Instead there was only one thing he could say: I'mmmmm sorry, I'mmmmm sorry. Over and over and over again, his tongue tripping over each utterance, it fell from him like a mantra, like if he stopped saying it he would crumble away to nothing.

It was the only thing he could even think to say through the haze of all the pain. He'd chased her off, he'd made her come crawling back. He wanted to curl up and let time take him away. The only thing he could do to atone was to keep repeating himself, the guilt and the shame over what he'd become crashing over him like a tidal wave. Even when he'd been resentful of her, that Bowen like everyone else who came back got to keep moving forwards, got to be happy. Even then she'd come back to hold him while he sobbed. He felt like a piece of shit.



Speech