Thanks be to Ms. EBT.
We stare at the picture for a while.
I want to ask her why she's being nice to me, why she's speaking to me. While therapy brought me back to myself, I'm not past what I put Bella through.
I don't see how she can be, either.
But I stay quiet, because this moment isn't about me.
It's then I notice liquid hitting the framed picture.
Bella's tears.
She's really crying.
I want to hug her, hold her, tell her I'm here for her.
But I don't think she'd want that from me.
"He came after me. Freshman year," she says through sobs. "Did you know that?"