There’s a part of her that’s desperate to reach out, to hold his hand or touch his shoulder or simply give him something to lean on — but ever since a gentle touch turned into something fatal, she’d been too scared to reach out to anyone, and if Victor is anything like her, like she assumes, his personal space is sacred.
Her jaw clenches, shoulders slumping because she gets it. There’s so much she doesn’t want to remember, either— but this place has made it clear that she doesn’t get the choice, she can still feel it all throughout her body, like an open wound.
She gulps, taking one small step forward. ❝ You’re one of the bravest people I know, Victor. ❞ She says it simply, because to her, it is simple— she knows what it’s like to be on her own in a terrifying place, and she only experienced it for a fraction of what he has. She’s always known him as brave, and even when he was vulnerable with her in the basement, that’s still what she was.
❝ Victor, ❞ she says, shaking her head quickly; her hands reach out, but not to touch, only to give him the opportunity if he needs it. ❝ You don’t have to… push yourself. One step at a time. Right? ❞
