Zara’s POV
the muscles in my legs ache from how tightly my arms are wrapped around them, my nails digging into the skin through the sweat pants I’m wearing, ones I haven't changed since the shower Gerrard forced me to have after we got home.
‘He was so gaunt’ I whisper, ‘his face was sallow, and he was so thin. His lips were scabbed and bleeding like he had been biting them, drinking his own blood. . . ‘
I feel Gerrard’s hand press to my back gently, and though I don’t lean in, I don’t shake him off either, part of me craving human contact as much as I wants to be left alone.
‘This is where Laszlo made you fight him’ my husband murmurs, it’s not a question, he knows it is.
I nod, swallowing hard, ‘I called out his name’ I mumble, ‘I knew I shouldn’t have, we were only allowed to use o
