I’m staying on his new couch, Dog One on my lap and Dog Two on the carpet, while Avocado sleeps in Elias’s bed. His bed is comfortable. It’s just that it’s not the same when I’m alone.

Yesterday, I almost grabbed the dogs and went home, but then I remembered he asked me to be here when he gets back. And I will.

The thing is, I’m not coping very well. The shock of Olivia dying was like falling from a cliff and surviving, only to breathe in a paralyzed body. And when Elias left, he took my last breath with him.

My phone rings, shaking me from my thoughts. It can’t be Elias because we spoke a couple of hours ago and he only rings once a day.

‘Darla The Therapist’ shows on my screen. I sigh and hit the green button. “What?”

She lets out a relieved breath. “Jesus, Indigo. I thought you were dead.”

I know that’s a thing people say as a joke, but it only reminds me of Olivia’s lifeless body. Not that I’ve stopped thinking about her anyway. Every thought I have is about her or her brother. It’s overwhelming and tiring. It never stops. Not even in my sleep.

“Well,” I say, “not me.” A bitter laugh escapes me as my eyes fill with tears.

Darla falls silent for a moment, contemplating my words. “What do you mean?” she finally says. I can hear the trepidation in her voice.

I shrug and my lip quivers. My breath hitches and I let out a shaking sob as tears stream from my eyes.

“What happened?” she asks calmly, lowering her tone.

I don’t say a word. I can’t stop my emotions as they burst out. They feel like a fucking queasy carousel mixed with a tornado and my chest explodes with pain.

Darla stays on the line, waiting patiently, not pressing me to say anything. Maybe because she knows I’d hang up. Or because she’s good at her job.

Dog One sits up on my belly and gives my nose a lick. I pat him on the head and a sad chuckle reverberates through my body. “Good boy,” I whisper, sniffing.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

I contemplate her question. Do I want to talk about it? No. Do I need to? Probably. She told me once that holding in emotions would bring me more pain than letting them out. And I believe her. “Yeah,” I sigh.

I tell her everything, not missing a single detail. I guess deep down I was eager to tell someone about it. Each word out of my mouth takes with it a stone from my heart. Breathing suddenly feels a lot easier.