( she wants to laugh, god, how sad is it in and of itself that such a horrific mentioning would be the sole fragment of light in a conversation like this. 'lucky to be alive', it's what they say; really it's just the sheer chance that she'd managed to survive, that she'd had someone to ensure she remained above ground. and so what happened, when matt went down his own spiral, and frank parted ways with that park, that house, that carousel and those people? )

It matters to me.

( despite the drop in volume, despite the blur that's taken to her sights, there's no waver to her tone. steady and stern, a plea for him to hear her, to listen, to remember when he's out there. when he's gotten them all and feels like, for once, he's standing alone with no one to look for. ) You matter to me.

( a tenderness he might not want to hear, might not feel is rightfully placed; but it's his. )

You know I can't stop. If I do... they win. All of them do. I just— ( a press of pink tongue to the roof of her mouth, managing her words about them before she lets them slip free. ) If something happened to you...