Love, I think that I may end up being a moth, after all.

I’ve laid the eggs. Our eggs. I’ve signed away a considerable chunk of my assets, in the event of my death, to Bette’s foundation. That means your assets, too, because you gave them to me.

The lawyer has all the papers, but I haven’t told Bette. Told the lawyer that I would soon, though, because she’s nervous about trying to explain all of that to Bette, in case something happened to me. I know Bette would have my head once she finds out I’d done this without telling her; failing that, Bette would have hers, and she doesn’t want to lose Bette as a client.

But how can I tell Bette that I’m tired, that my heart aches, and that no one but you can pull me out of this deep hole I’ve sunk into?

I just want to rest. I just want to be with you. I need you to give me one more miracle, baby, for me to survive this. I need you to stop my heart from breaking just one more time.

Otherwise, all I want is peace. Lord, grant me peace, please.

I stood up and went to our medicine cabinet. I’d chanced upon the bottle of pain meds that Joe had forgotten he’d left in the drawer of the side table close to where you normally slept. The left side of the bed, remember?

I found it a month ago, and every day, for about an hour I would toss the thing up and down, like a ball. And then I’d hide it in the medicine cabinet. Hand-eye coordination’s still good, you’ll be glad to know.

So, anyway, I think I’ll just take a fist-full of these pills now.

I’ve laid the eggs. Time for the moth to exit.

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I could hear Jules shouting frantically, “You better fucking make it, Aerin, or I will beat the crap out of you! Fight, dammit! Fight!”

I felt myself edge towards a peaceful silence.

Then I thought I heard Jules scream for all she was worth, “Chris said you were a silkworm, dammit! She said you were a silkworm! You’re not a moth! Not a moth! Silkworm Aerin! Aerin!” Jules was shouting directly into my ear now, even as techs were pulling her away from me because doctors were about to apply a direct electrical charge on my chest.

I drew back from the edge and crawled back towards Jules’ insistent voice, curious about why she would say that. “Did Chris really say that?” I wanted to ask her.

“I think we have her! We have her! Got a heart beat!” I could barely pick out the exact words. Maybe my subconscious was picking this up.

But all I could think about was: She said that? She said I was a silkworm? But I thought I was a moth?

Is this you stopping my heart from breaking, Chris?

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