"Holland," Kasteil said quietly as he knelt beside the bathtub.
His voice was low, careful, as though raising it even slightly might cause something inside Holland to break further. Water lapped softly against the porcelain, the surface trembling as Holland's body shook.
"I'm so sorry," Holland kept muttering. "I'm so sorry."
The words were empty and broken, repeating without rhythm or pause. They didn't sound like an apology meant for anyone in particular. It felt more like a reflex, something he had been saying for a long time before anyone arrived.
"It's ok, Holland," Kasteil said, leaning closer so Holland could hear him. "It's ok."
Holland didn't look at him.
"I should die," he muttered. His voice was flat, stripped of emotion. "Dying is better."
Kasteil's chest tightened painfully.
"No, Holland, you don't have to die," Kasteil said quickly, trying to keep his voice steady. "You can't—"
He stopped when he heard movement behind him.
