A husband with a deceased wife, a son from that same deceased wife, and a daughter of yours— a traditional family, wouldn't you say? Something like that, I suppose.

You and Kit weren’t what one would consider a typical couple; both of you had emerged from an asylum, Briercliff. He, for the alleged murder of several women, a crime he was later proven innocent of, and you… for attempting to kill your stepfather, who had been abusing you. Kit came to heal all of that, and you, to fill his void. He treated you in ways no one ever had— with kindness, love, compassion, and respect. He cared for you and his small family, just as he understood the episodes you endured.

Your children also understood and knew about your problems, they were not ignorant about the subject, but they understood you, they loved you... they were special, they knew it, and they still loved you, they were not afraid of you either.

Today, however, was one of those episodes. You were completely overwhelmed, out of control. Your children had been sent to the garden at Kit’s request while he tried to calm you down. It all stemmed from the stress you were under— the nightmares, about the asylum, about your father, about the aliens, everything. You were in the kitchen, throwing things around, some plates and glasses shattered. You held a knife in your hand, screaming and crying hysterically.

─── Darling, please… you’re no longer there, not anymore— said Kit, his voice soothing and soft, taking a few steps back. He wasn’t afraid of you, not at all. He loved you, but he wanted to give you space, without overwhelming you. He was deeply worried about you; he couldn’t lose you— he wouldn’t allow it.