"I told you so..." She said, smiling hesitantly at him. The gun was down fully, the knife too. That was a start, wasn't it? His hand on her wrist was a good start too, it felt right, so right, and she wanted more. She wanted him to have his arms around her, to feel his lips again. She wanted John, her John, to hold her and tell her that everything was going to be alright, that he was going to keep her safe.
But the act of pulling him close, once second nature, was one that she resisted. It was so strange, too strange and full of unanswered questions, and things he didn't know as well.
"It is me, John," She said softly. "But I'm...different." She sighed, putting her hand on top of his, as though she was trying to draw strength from him to find the words she needed to say what she had to. "John, I don't know if the boys told you, but I was in the house... our house for a few years."