191: Frantic

Damien's been staring at the ceiling for over an hour.

He retreats into his shell whenever he's going through something particularly difficult, I've noticed this about a hundred times. I don't know how to reach him and I'm not sure he wants me to. Gary's death got to him, I can't imagine what it must have been like for him to see his old friend dead on his desk, bleeding all over the place. The best thing I can do is give him space to digest this.

I wish I could do something, anything to contribute, but I won't try to help. I don't want to get into more trouble and have him pay for my mistakes and my stubbornness. That has happened too many times already and I almost died. He could've died trying to save me, too.

I want to talk to him, to hold him. My hands are itching to reach out to him, but he hasn't said a word since we walked inside this room and I don't know what to say to make him feel better. Maybe I'm being too needy.

I shift and my wrist throbs. I can't change positions. Whe