Summer was silent for a long moment wen he stopped talking. “Ten years ago, yes? More. And as vivid as the day it happened,” she said finally. “Why do you cut yourself on it?” She looked around the room, searching for a candle, but gave up after a moment, turning back to Victor. “Is that the worst of it?”
“Still just as vivid as the day it happened. She was the first person to show me any sort of kindness. She was the first person I loved and somehow she loved me back. She was also the first person that died because of me, because of what I am. And how did I repay her? I put her down like a dog.” He shook his head. “It haunts me that I didn’t do anything to stop it. I could’ve killed the bastards from the Institute years earlier but I didn’t. I tried to pretend none of it had ever happened.”
“Yeah, that’s the worst of it. After that, I started drinking heavily. I was drowning, almost literally in my regret. A drink felt like the only thing that worked to make me not think. I finally kicked it, with the help of some friends at the time. This is the first time I’ve had so much in a long time.” He trailed off for a moment and then looked to Summer to try to see what she was looking for.
“It’s the last time, too, if you expect to stay with me.” She leveled a flat gaze at him. “Now, listen. I expect I’ll have to repeat this many times before you can believe me, and at some point you will say to me, ‘how can you know? how dare you say these things?’ and I will tell you. But for now, listen. You believe it was your fault. You think, if I’d never left the Institute. If we’d never got close. If I’d protected her better. A thousand ifs.”
“It was not your fault. There are a thousand ifs on her side, on their side. By regretting it so, you demean her choice. You reduce her to nothing more than a thing, an object.” Summer put a hand under Victor’s chin. “The hardest lesson is this: shit /happens/. You cannot choose for others. Her or them.”
Victor stared at her, shocked into silence. He’d spent a majority of his life believing it as his fault what happened to Claire. He was a stubborn man too, which didn’t help. He looked down and sighed, shocked when Summer said he was reducing her to an object. “I-I..” He swallowed then tried to speak again. “It won’t happen again, Summer, I promise. Just…I’m going to need your help ok?”
“Well, of course.” Her tone was matter-of-fact. “Trust me when I say I’ve been there. But the liquor isn’t going to make you forget the way you want to — you’re the only person who can do that. And all I can do is take the edge off.” She pursed her lips, looking at him. “I’m going to find your kitchen, and you are going to finish up here, and go to bed. I’ll be right behind you.”