Describe Your Worst Failure.

I couldn't save her. (Are we sensing a theme, children?) No one time stands out above the rest. Time and time and time again I reached for her. I found her. I lost her to my wife's bitter curse. Lost her to blood and pain and death. Never easy deaths. She suffered. Sometimes they made me watch. Sometimes I found her after. The things they did to her...

It's a blessing she doesn't remember them all. Even when the nightmares wake her screaming, she rarely remembers more than one or two. She remembers jumping. She remembers the times she ended it. But not often what came before. It's a blessing.

I remember, but it's mine to bear. Mine to carry as part of the curse, you see.

To remember that it all happens because I failed her. Because I underestimated Fuamnach. Because I didn't take care of that situation before bringing her to my home. Because I loved her. Because I took her home and set her as my beloved.

I couldn't save her. But the failure goes deeper than that. Deeper than the fact that I'm always too late. Or bound. Unable to reach her. It's darker than that. More twisted, the knife that cuts into the soul, forcing me to acknowledge one simple fact over and over. When I try to cling to the failure to save her the small voice whispers insidiously.

I'm the one who doomed her.