Sam cries with her, quieter, needing to spend comfort more than to receive it, his chest leaden with soreness, and he is constricted, but surprised, to find the beast slithered back to where it came from, letting him breathe a little easier.

Monika has been quiet for a few minutes, but Sam just strokes her hair and back, giving her space.

"Did you draw them because you couldn't talk to anyone?"

Sam feels a surge of cold rippling down his spine, even though it's almost too warm inside, with the sun streaming in through the windows.

"Yes. I'm bad at writing and talking about how I feel, so I draw."...