Relief and sorrow crashed through Wendy. She curled up against her mom. She had put so much energy and care into not letting herself cry for fear of never stopping. But now, the anguished cries shuddered through her body, and she let them.

“I’m so sorry, Wendy…”

Wendy wanted to argue, to say that her mom had no reason to be sorry, she was the one to blame for John’s and Michael’s deaths.

“We were trying to protect you, but we let you down,” Mrs. Darling said. Wendy could only shake her head. She felt the sigh lift her mom’s chest. “We let our own mourning distract us from taking care of you. You are so brave, Wendy Darling.” Her mom gave her a small squeeze.

Mrs. Darling leaned back. Wendy felt her hands, cool against her flushed skin, cup her cheeks. Wendy hiccupped as she blinked through tears. She felt the weight on the couch shift. Her dad lowered himself next to them. One of his heavy hands settled on her back.

“You’ve been haunted by this for so long,” her mom told her, thumbs sweeping away her tears. Mrs. Darling’s smile was small but hopeful. “I want you to live, Wendy, not just endure.”

It was more than Wendy could take, so she let herself give in to it. She huddled against her mom, who continued to rub her back. Her dad’s steady hand didn’t leave.

“You found them, Wendy,” her mom murmured against the top of her head. “They’re safe.”

They stayed there for a long while, Wendy pressed between her mom and dad, letting them hold her close. She felt like she was teetering on the edge of a black pit that threatened to swallow her whole, but every time she felt as though she was about to fall in headfirst, she closed her eyes and remembered John and Michael.

Wendy appreciated her parents’ comfort, but after a while, it started to feel suffocating. She was overheated and thirsty. Her lips tasted like salt. She needed some space, some fresh air, and some sleep.

She gently untangled herself from her parents’ arms and got up off the couch. “I’m going to go to sleep,” she said through sniffles, wiping at her runny nose. “In my old room.”

Her mom and dad exchanged looks.

“I’m okay,” Wendy told them, and this time it wasn’t a lie. She inhaled a deep breath and managed a small smile. “Really.”

Her dad finally nodded and her mom gave her hand a small squeeze before Wendy went upstairs.

The unlocked door swung open easily. Wendy crept over to the bay window and crawled onto the bench. The sky was turning a periwinkle blue, creeping toward sunrise. Wendy leaned back against the wall and closed her eyes. She hooked her thumb around the leather cord around her neck and squeezed the acorn in her palm.