[ It’s a level of honest that Gabe doesn’t often allow. He’s not certain why he offers it now. Maybe there’s just something in the air today. Maybe even Gabe, murderer that he is, still hesitates at the sound of panic in another person’s voice. Sometimes he thinks he’s beyond caring about pain, his own or anyone else’s. Wouldn’t that be nice? Wouldn’t that be easier?

He scrubs at his face, exhaling. ]

Sometimes, [ he admits quietly. ] If a moment catches me. And then it’s like I’m living through the bad shit all over again, even though I’m right here. The body gets confused.

[ He wonders if anyone’s ever explained PTSD to Noth. He’s got a feeling no one ever bothered. ]