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He wanted to close his eyes, to block out this cold, cramped room and pretend he was back in the lighthouse, where everyone was safe and happy and—and alive—but he couldn’t. Every time he shut his eyes he heard the creak of the latch, felt the rumble underfoot, saw the flash of white, smelled the smoke, heard the ringing, heard the thud, and then he had to grasp at his chest to claw the ache off his heart.
“You can’t blame yourself,” said a small voice from the corner of the room.
He raised his head to look at her.
It’s the night after the funeral, and the Villies can’t sleep. Gem comforts Grian while they wait out the night.
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WHYYYYY AHSHSUWNWHSNSJSSJ
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MY VILLIES!!! THEY ARE SO TRAGIC