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blow at a time. He hesitated for a moment before finally pressing the doorbell, wincing as the sound reverberated through the house.
    What am I doing here? What if I make it worse?
    His father’s voice echoed in his head, as clear as if he were standing right next to him.
    “It wasn’t your fault, son. You need to come home. Just talk to her – explain. It’s going to be alright.”
    He was under no illusions. Coming back here wasn’t enough. He had thought about her every day, and about what he had done, about how he could fix it, make it up to her – to all of them. But he always came up empty. There was no fixing this, not all of it at least.
    Yet he was here now, standing at her door, petrified, but ready to ask for forgiveness. He had come this far – a lot further than he ever dreamed he could. He tried to breathe normally, jamming his hands into the pockets of his jeans to stop them from shaking.
    It took every ounce of strength he had inside of him to stand there, on her doorstep, and wait. It seemed to take an eternity before the door finally opened and when it did, the suddenness of it rendered him speechless.
    Maggie stared back at him. “You’re here.”
    Her hair was longer and blonder, and her eyes were red-rimmed. Still speechless, he nodded.
    “I’m sorry, about your Dad.”
    All he could do was nod again.
    “I can’t believe you actually came.” 
    “I had to.”
    His mouth was dry, although his hands felt clammy. He clenched them into fists inside the pockets of his jeans.
    “Took you four years, but you got here eventually.”
    Jack winced, willing himself to remember why he was there. His entire body was tense, as if barricading itself against a physical onslaught.
    “Is she here?” he glanced past her, down the empty hallway.
    “Yes.  But she doesn’t want to see you.”
    His heart sank.
    “I can understand that.” He took a ragged breath and tried again. “Look, I’m not an idiot – I know… I mean, I was just hoping that maybe she might talk to me? Just for a few minutes.”
    “She doesn’t want to see you,” Maggie repeated evenly.
    He was being stonewalled and he knew it. He couldn’t blame her.
    “You shouldn’t have come.”
    His mouth and throat were barren and aching from the effort of trying to keep a lid on his emotions.
    “I’m sorry.”
    “It’s not enough,” she shook her head, eyes suddenly brimming with tears.  “It’s not nearly enough, Jack.”
    “I’m sorry,” he whispered again, turning away and stumbling down the front steps towards his car.
    He could barely see straight, the road swimming in front of him crazily. He didn’t even remember the drive back to his father’s house, just the desperate need to escape.
     

CHAPTER 3

    “ The brave man is not the one who has no fears; he is the one who triumphs over his fears. ”
    - Nelson Mandela
     
     
    Pain filtered through Ally’s dream, nudging her awake. The intensity steadily increased, fiery tendrils licking up and down her spine. Holding her breath involuntarily, she lay on her side, blinking in the dim light of early morning. The pain held her physically captive as she mentally struggled to fight off the last vestiges of the nightmare she had been in the middle of when she had been so rudely awakened.
    Sometimes she woke with the uncertainty of not knowing if she was awake or still dreaming, the phantom sensations shooting up her legs confusing the two. It took a few moments for reality to crash headlong into her, the sensations giving way to the familiar numbness as disappointment settled in the pit of her stomach like ice. Most nights she was lucky to get five or six hours sleep, often waking with a dull ache where the steel rods were surgically fused to her spine. Occasionally she woke like she did this morning – in agony. She had gotten used to the lack of sleep, but the pain seemed to take her by surprise every time.
    This morning was a double whammy. Pain had woken her out of