I know now that I will never be able to fix this. There is no amount of therapy or time that can wash away the fact that she asked for help and I didn’t answer.

I am the one who failed. He was a monster, but I was the one who let him into her life. I was the one who stayed when I should have been watching. I was the one who closed my eyes.

The counselor walked me out to the parking lot. She didn’t say a word. She just watched me walk to my car. My hands were still shaking so hard I could barely put the key in the ignition. I sat there for a long time. I just stared at the steering wheel. I kept thinking about the math. Fourteen times. That is a lot of chances. That is a lot of moments where I could have changed everything. But I didn’t. I chose the easy way. I chose the lie.

I don’t know what happens next. I don’t know if she will ever look at me the same way again. I don’t even know if I deserve to look at her. I know that I am going to have to live with this for the rest of my life. Every time I hear a knock on a door, I will think of her. Every time I see a five-dollar bill, I will think of the price I paid for my own blindness.

I just hope that one day, she can find someone who actually listens. I hope she can find a way to be happy, even if I’m not the one who helps her get there. I failed her, and that is a truth I have to carry every single day until I die.