Dominic's body finally went still.
The anger bled out of him, like he had nothing left to throw at the guards, nothing left to scream.
All that was left was silence
His chest heaved. And then… nothing.
He didn't move. Didn't speak. He just sat there, staring at his palm.
That was the moment I realized.
This wasn't denial anymore. Or anger.
This was the stage that doesn't shout. Doesn't bargain.
That swallows you whole when you can't fight anymore.
Where every thought turns into dust, and every word into ash.
Depression.
It digs in quietly, roots itself so deep you forget what light looks like. Some people crawl out of it. Some never do.
And watching Dominic sink into silence, watching the way his shoulders hunched and his eyes stayed fixed on the floor… I couldn't shake the fear that he might never come back out.
I wanted to reach for him. But he didn't even move when I brushed his sleeve.
