There are moments when the words don't reach. There is suffering too terrible to name. You hold your child as tight as you can and push away the unimaginable. The moments when you're in so deep, it feels easier to just swim down.

Alexander's POV

I held Phillip as he took his last breath. I cried. I heard Eliza's scream and winced. I've caused more pain to my family.

We moved uptown. We couldn't live in that house now that Phillip was gone. It held too many memories of happier times.

I sighed as I sat in the garden. Oh Phillip... I shouldn't have given him the guns. I shouldn't have allowed him to duel and yet... I did. It's all my fault he's dead. I've felt this feeling of blame too many times. Hah. Jefferson thinks I'm so full of myself, but I'm not. In truth, I hate myself. I hate myself for everything I am. I miss my Eliza. I miss my children. I don't expect them to forgive for what I did.

I walked inside and made eye contact with Eliza. I quickly looked down and walked swiftly to my office. I sat down and I noticed my sleeves had lifted up. I looked at my arms. The scars told a story. Eliza had asked me about them once but... I didn't tell her anything. She doesn't need to know how tormented I am. She doesn't need to know she married a cheating bastard who is as worthless as I am. Although, she probably already knows about both since I published the pamphlet. I looked at a poem Phillip had wrote me. Oh Phillip...

I cried. I looked at the knife I had in my desk drawer that was meant to be used for protection. Should I do it? I shook my head. I told John I'd stop. Oh... If only John were here. No! I scolded myself. John is dead. I should've been there for him too, just like how I should've been there for my mother, my cousin, Eliza, my kids, and especially Phillip. I picked up the blade. I haven't done this in years. I cut myself. It felt... Good. I cut myself a few more times and stopped. I couldn't do this. I just... Couldn't. I used a towel to wipe off the blood on the knife and to clean the blood on my arm and desk.

I went to bed, nightmares of Philip blaming me for his death plaguing me. I can't even deny them, because it's true.