“I feel like it’s my fault,” Roy says, eyes distant. “I should’ve done something, you know? Been better, been faster. She’s dead and…”

Lian’s death is on his shoulders. He was her father, he was supposed to protect her, die for her. And yet he hadn’t even had a body to bury.

Roy’s been coming to you for a year now. He’s comfortable with you, but you’re his therapist, he has to be.

“I wanted to watch her grow up,” he adds in a quiet voice. “She deserved that.”