Witch's Marsh hearts / wires

a little late for that, isn't it? she scoffs half-heartedly. it was a meek effort to channel the warm, teasing nature of their typical conversations. i'm already here. sunk cost fallacy.
her head drops back down to where it had been before as she entangles her limbs with his. the truth was that she'd made up her mind long ago, somewhere, at some point. maybe it was that chilly spring afternoon on the beach. maybe it was the rise. maybe it was somewhere in between, or nowhere in particular at all.
all she knew was that it was him. he hadn't done anything because he hadn't needed to.
i'm here, mulherin, she says it again, this time with more conviction; defiant, almost, yet tender. i'm not letting you do this alone. i'm not-- letting what happened to me happen to you.