She keeps it there, not in a firm grip, clinging, but gentle, moving every so often in a slow circle; it's helping her as much. Feels good to move, to feel like she's helping in some way, even if all she's doing is rubbing Clarisse's back, keeping them linked. It's a reminder, a reassurance. I'm still here. I won't go.

She laughs, once. It sounds flat, fake. "God, yeah. Same.

"Want me to punch you in the head until you're out cold? I'd do it."

You know, as a friend.