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KELLAN'S POV

I sat in that cool, antiseptic-smelling room staring at Sharon's pale, lifeless face. Quiet beeping from the machines hummed softly-low pitched-their steady rhythm the only sign that she still clung to life. Her wrists were bandaged over, scars covering what she had tried to do. That tightness seared my chest, guilt eating painfully at my insides.

I'd done this. I'd pushed her to this point.

How in tarnation did it get this bad?

I hunched forward, my elbows to my knees, and massaged my temples. Inside, my head was a complete mess. First, everything had fallen apart, one thing after another-my doing. Sharon is fragile, sensitive, but I hadn't thought that she would go to such an extent. Now I knew keeping her at arm's length was just an act of desperation-to help her get over me. I just turned a blind eye to her suffering.