Hannah could handle the blood and the glass, even the odd behavior - she'd managed to toughen herself up over the years, but beneath the carefully crafted armor was a vulnerability that simply refused to die. It could be buried, silenced, even hidden; but never truly destroyed.
The request for a knife caught her off guard, and for a split second her heart stopped and her lungs felt empty. It passed almost as quickly as it had come, but now it was a desperate scramble to hold herself together.
"Okay." Somehow she managed to make her voice work, but she had to find against her instincts to pull open the drawer. The last time she'd used a knife had been five years ago, and she remembered it all too vividly. How she'd had to drag the blade across her wrist, because doing it slowly wasn't good enough. She needed to cut deep so she'd bleed out faster because she hadn't wanted to be saved. She'd wanted to die.
Her fingers curled around the handle, and it felt so familiar that she wanted to throw it as far away from herself as possible. But Emery needed it, he'd asked for it, which meant he would probably be the one wielding it. She never told him just what had been happening when they met, and she wasn't sure if she was ready to tell him now. Hannah took a deep breath before turning back to him, unconsciously holding the knife away from herself and offering the handle to him. "H--Here you go."