Jason Davenport

It took a while to process everything that had just happened.

Amelia had attempted suicide.

Amelia was carrying my child.

Still dazed, I sat on the still cold floor in my wet clothes, my back resting against a raised platform, and I forced myself to think.

Think of the times when I still had mom. Think of the times when Amelia and I had been. . . friendly.

Friendly.

Something cold pumped through me. It felt wrong saying that. Thinking like that. A part of me just couldn't bring myself to accept that fact. To me it felt like betrayal.

And betrayal meant that I was making peace...