"I dream about them too, sometimes." She didn't need to say who.
"The dreams feel so real, it's easy to mix them in with what I remember." He shifted uncomfortably. The haunted echo of her voice wrapped around him, caressing him. He felt a sympathy he didn't want to give voice to.
"The smell of blood was the worst part. It was so strong I could taste it, I still can. It almost made me turn back. I was choking on it." She was cradling Judith in her arms, her words a contrast to the sight before him.
"David's first, always. Then Karen. The worst part is seeing their faces, all the while knowing what's about to come."
"Stop."
"I'd made a choice, though. I thought about not going through with it, but hearing them coughing and seeing all of the blood they'd already lost, I couldn't stop. I made a decision, I had to-"
"Stop." This time his voice was more forceful, tortured.
"I'm sorry." A flash of apologetic horror tore her from her thoughts. She'd let her tongue get away from her. The loneliness that often accompanies the night had gripped her, had made her mind wander into darker territory.
She hadn't meant to tell him of her dreams. But he'd woken from another nightmare, her own name on his lips, begging her to stop. She'd put a face to the truest horrors in his nightmares. When he'd woken up, shaking and unable to meet her gaze, she'd wanted to make him understand. Not just that she'd done what she thought she had to, but that she understood his nightmares. She had them too, more often than she'd like to admit. She didn't regret it. She'd made a decision and she'd stuck by it ever since, but that didn't mean it didn't weigh heavy on her heart. Seeing him so vulnerable, she'd wanted to make him understand that he wasn't alone. But solace wasn't hers to give nor to receive here. It wasn't her place, not for this. It was part of the price she paid for stepping up, for making a call. Decisions like the one she'd made come with a price, she'd known that before she'd even stepped foot into block A that morning.
"Get some rest, I'll take watch the rest of the night."
"You should sleep more, you look like you need it. I'll be fine."
He shook his head as he stood to stretch his legs, pacing at the edge of their tiny camp. He spoke with his back turned, the breeze carrying his words to her just loud enough to hear.
"I can't sleep anymore tonight." If there was ever one thing she would regret about taking those two lives, it would be the impact it all had on the man before her. She'd known good men and bad men in her time, but never any that sounded as utterly broken as he did in that moment. She nodded, surrendering the fight. She could give him that at least.
As she lay clutching Judith swaddled in a ratty shawl to her chest like her last lifeline, she pretended to sleep as she listened to his heartbreak. Her confession had added a new layer to his torment, had caused the initial pain to resurface and triple. He was honest when he'd said he forgave her, she didn't doubt his sincerity, but it would be a long time before they could really move forward. In the end they would have no other choice, together now with a baby on the road. Time heals all wounds, her mother was often quick to remind her, and this wound would be no different. She hoped.