“I’ve been in that box,” I said. “Scratching.”

Dean. Me sitting in the hospital room, pining for Amy.

It was hard to even think about, hard enough that I felt like the facade I was maintaining and had been maintaining for a while might crack, and past those cracks I might be right where I started, right after I got a ‘me’ body again, compulsions removed.

She seemed to absorb that, then said, “There have been a lot of times in the past where people described what I was doing as scary.”

“Yeah, you mentioned that. Feels unfair?”

“No. It did. But feeling like I do now is the first time I’m a little scared by my feelings and what I might do.”

Uh.

Fucking hell.

That was making me reconsider a lot about what we were doing right now. What the hell was I even supposed to say to that?

“Do you think you’re a danger to others?” I asked, as gently as I could.

“Maybe? No, not… I really don’t know,” she said, quiet. “I said before that I couldn’t see in the moment, but then after when people ran away, I could see it.”

“Yeah.”

“They’re running and I can’t see it, now. It’s getting harder, the feelings weirder and crazier. So what do I even do?”

Her hands in her pockets, snow a quarter-inch thick on her hat, shoulders, and arms, she turned to look at me for the first time in a good while. The smile on her face was the saddest and sweetest I’d seen her wear.

I could see the headlights. Our ride. The car drove slowly through snow that reached up to the undercarriage.

“There’s a set of guidelines I’m pretty sure I’ve talked about before. You do what the law says. That’s absolute.”

Kenzie hesitated, then nodded.

“Then you do what’s right. When you’re dealing with people, that means being honest, truthful, you show caring, share, be respectful—respectful of privacy—”

“Oof.”

“—but you treat people right. I think your intentions are good. After that, if those two things are in conflict or you can’t figure it out, reach out. Ask for help, ask for advice. Hold back, move slowly, put on the brakes as best as you can, and leave room for others to say stuff.”

“What they say isn’t always what I hear.”

“Yeah.”

“Okay.”

“And just… try to live so you have no regrets.”

“That’s your system, then?” she asked. “I think you did mention it, but I was distracted.”

“It’s my system, yeah.”

When was the last time I’d even invoked it, or invoked it fully?

I felt like such a hypocrite.

“A part of me wants this to fall apart,” she said. “Because that’s something I’m used to.”

“That’s a hell of a trap to fall into.”

“Yeah. Have to do this.”