Night fell heavy. The shack groaned under the weight of suffering. Bodies pressed close, breath rasping in the dark.
But Kael's mind was fixed. His hands shook as he reached for the corner. For the rope.
I fought him, gripping his arms, whispering through clenched teeth: "Not this. Not tonight."
He resisted, tears burning his eyes. "I can't keep living like this! I can't—"
"You can," I whispered back. "Because I'm here. Because someone finally sees you."
He froze, stunned. Perhaps it had been years since anyone had spoken to him with anything but orders and cruelty.
But the silence didn't last. The despair returned, sharper, stronger. His grip tightened on the rope.
And I realized: words alone wouldn't be enough this time. I had to find something—anything—that could make him believe there was more than pain.
The rope slipped between his fingers, heavy, rough, inevitable.
And dawn was still far away.