"Griffin!" I called, banging lightly on the bathroom door, "Are you almost done in there? It's been a good forty-five minutes."

Griffin called back to, surprising me with the amount of humor laced in his tone, "Sure, but you're welcome to join me."

I rolled my eyes and took a few steps back from the door, a small smile breaking out onto my face. I had lived with Griffin for eight months and I would still never fully get used to it - to him. I had seen Griffin at his absolute worst - and he had seen me at my worst - and now we got to heal and see each other at our bests. It was an amazing feeling.

It took almost two years for us to heal, and even now I wouldn't say that we were fully okay. But after a year of spending time apart, only talking through the phone, Griffin and I decided it would be best to meet up again. And then we started meeting up once a week, and once a week turned into every other day until we barely spent any time apart. Then Griffin asked me to be his girlfriend, and, after four months of dating, we had decided to rent an apartment closer to my school.

I sighed and walked across the room, pulling open the top drawer that was filled with my clothes. I knew Griffin was nervous about today - hence why he was hiding in the bathroom - and I couldn't deny that I felt nervous, too. It had been two years since we last saw Grant Cutkosky, and I didn't think either of us were one-hundred percent ready to see him again.

The last time I saw Grant, he had been thrashing in a police officer's arms as he admitted to killing his own mother. I would never get that image out of my head.

I heard the bathroom door creak open and I turned, sending Griffin a small, reassuring smile. He looked at me, blue eyes wide, fingers nervously adjusting the black tie looped around his neck. I had seen Griffin looking nervous before, but now he looked completely lost. His eyes darted around our room before landing back on me.

"Is this okay?" he asked, tugging on the collar of his white-button up shirt. Griffin ran his fingers through his hair and sighed, lips pursed, "I don't know if I can do this, Emmy."

I wanted to tell him that everything would be okay, but I couldn't do that. It was the anniversary of his mother's death and we were going to visit his brother in a hospital for the criminally insane. In no world could I promise Griffin that today would be okay, or that we would be able to follow through with our plans.

But I could promise him one thing.

I walked forward and grabbed his hands, gently lacing my fingers through his and pulling him close, "You have me," I said quietly, running my thumbs across the backs of his hands, "You aren't doing this alone. I'll be right by your side."

Griffin leaned down, lips brushing gently against mine. He pulled back and rested his forehead against mine, eyes locked together, "I love you so much."

"I love you too," I told him, leaning up a bit to capture his lips in a quick kiss. I pulled back and smiled at Griffin before going back over to my drawer, pulling out a blouse, "Can you go heat up the car? It's freezing out."

Griffin smiled at me again before he slipped out of the room, leaving the door ajar behind him. I got changed quickly, heart hammering in my chest, my nerves begin to take place. It had taken Griffin and I two years to get our lives back on track, and I wasn't sure what today was going to do. If I was scared to see Grant, I couldn't imagine how Griffin must have been feeling.

And what would we even say to Grant when we got there? Would I tell him that I was pursuing my career to be a trauma counselor, or that Griffin had gotten a job with the IRS? Would we tell him that we had moved in together, or that we both occasionally woke each other up from nightmares about a certain night two years ago? Would I smile at him and try to mask my horror, or would I stay in the corner of the room, too afraid to get close?

I rubbed my hands against my eyes and groaned quietly, knowing that none of my questions would help me. There was no way to prepare for a situation like this, and I knew that. I knew that no matter what I did - no matter how many times I silently told myself that it would be okay - I would never be prepared to walk into that hospital and see Grant.

I took a deep breath and quickly got dressed, swallowing down my nerves. I stepped into the living room and paused by the table, looking at the mail that was sitting on top of the table. And, as I expected, sitting on top of the pile was a letter addressed from Erie County Prison.

Griffin's father sent him a letter from jail every two weeks. Griffin never read the letters - they all went straight into the trash - but he also gave the jail permission to allow his father to send him the letters, a fact I didn't understand. Even when Griffin had changed apartments, he made sure to update the jail so they could give his father the new address. Even if he didn't read the letters, I knew that some small part of Griffin just wanted to know that his father was alive - or maybe just wanted to see the jail logo on the front of the envelope and be reminded that his dad was suffering.

I pushed the letter aside and looked out at the dining room, a small smile taking place on my face. The table was covered in papers and envelopes - between Griffin's work papers and my study notes - with a few mugs on the table. We had pictures tacked up on the walls, mostly ones that Griffin and I had taken of ourselves and then printed out on the computer.

Griffin came back inside and frowned when he noticed me looking down at the mail. Griffin knew I hated that he got letters from his dad, but he also knew that I would never make him stop accepting the letters. I didn't know the complete reason why he accepted the letters, but it wasn't my place to say anything about it.

"I'm sorry," Griffin muttered, taking long-legged strides over to me. He picked up the stack of mail and plucked his dad's letter out before putting the other papers down, "I know you hate seeing these."

I smiled lightly at him and grabbed a mug from the table instead, being careful not to spill the liquid in it, "I wasn't looking that," Griffin stared at me in surprise, eyes widening innocently, and I held the mug out to him, "I was looking at how much of a slob you were."

Griffin grinned at me and grabbed the mug, taking it into the kitchen. I watched as he placed it in the sink and then turned to the trash can, flipping it open and holding the letter above it. Griffin ripped the letter in half and dropped the pieces in the trash can, letting out a deep breath as he did so. Griffin closed the lid and walked back to me, leaning against the wall.

"Ready?" I asked, leaning forward to grab his hand.

Griffin squeezed my hand back, fingers brushing over my knuckles as he took a deep breath, "As ready as I'll ever be."

-

Griffin had a panic attack the second we pulled up to Danville State Hospital.

By the time I had taken the keys out of the ignition, he started breathing rapidly and then that quickly turned into heaving. I watched in horror as Griffin's fingers curled tightly into fists and pressed against his forehead, strangled sobs escaping his throat. I leaned forward and gently wrapped my arms around him, feeling his body shaking in my grip.

We stood in the hospital now, fingers laced together, bodies pressed against each other. We had gone through security and now we stood in the lobby, waiting for a doctor (or security guard) to take us to Grant's room.

My eyes darted around the hospital - the metal bars over the windows, the light blue paint of the walls, the delicate balance between a jail and a hospital. Griffin kept his eyes locked straight ahead, jaw clenched tightly, fingers occasionally tightening their grip on mine. I wanted to turn back around, get in the car, and go home, but it was too late. We were both too close to seeing Grant to turn back around.

"Mr. Cutkosky and Miss Grayson?" a doctor asked, a small smile on his face. He was wearing a typical doctors outfit - scrubs with a white lab jacket - and I couldn't help but wonder if a weapon for protection was under his clothes, "Have you signed into the visitor's log?"

Griffin nodded, voice scratchy when he spoke, "Yes. We're here to see - uh, to see Grant. Grant Cutkosky. He's my brother."

Griffin's voice broke when he said his brother's name, but if the doctor noticed he didn't say anything about it, "I'm Eren. Grant's room is on the first floor, and we'll have a guard stationed outside of the door in case you need help. I know that he's your brother, and I'm sorry to do this, but I have to ask you not to touch Grant. He hasn't had much of a violent streak, but anything could happen."

Griffin's eyes turned glassy quickly and he blinked, taking a deep, uneven breath. Instead of speaking, Griffin just nodded, and we allowed ourselves to be led through the first floor of the hospital by Eren. Hearing that Grant had a violent streak hadn't reassured me at all when the words anything could happen followed it. Those words had strike a cord in me - the true, daunting, terrifying realization that I was visiting a mental patient in a hospital for the criminally insane.

I could feel sweat dripping down from my temples as we stopped in front of a door. Eren swiped a card by a box next to the door and pulled it open, stepping inside. He was talking to Grant - I heard him say something about visitors - but the thrumming of my heartbeat made it impossible to hear what he was saying.

"I love you," Griffin whispered quietly, eyes locked on Eren when he stepped out of the room by held the door open with his hand, "If you need to leave, I understand. I promise."

I looked up at Griffin, eyes running over the planes of his face; his strong jaw, thin, pink lips, bright blue eyes that gave every single one of his emotions away. And I knew that as much as he needed this, some part of me needed it too.

"I love you too."

Together we walked forward, thanking Eren before we stepped into Grant's room.

My eyes swept the room, taking everything in quickly. The walls were light blue and white - two calming colors - as were the sheets on the immaculately made bed. There was a calendar taped on the wall and a pair of white shoes - no laces - sitting below them. There was a barred window high up on the wall, but aside from that the walls were absolutely bare.

"Griffin," Grant said slowly, but I couldn't bring myself to look at him. Not yet. I was too scared to look into the eyes of someone I considered a friend not too long ago, "Emmy... Oh my God - I never thought I would see you guys again."

I tear my eyes away from the wall and look at Grant, breath hitching in my throat. I had expected to see a mere memory of Grant, but it's almost terrifying to see how similar he looks. He's still got the same messy hair (although it's cut short now), bright blue eyes, and facial structure. I wanted to look at him and see a monster, but instead I saw someone who I had once trusted and cared about.

Griffin swallowed, hands trembling lightly by his sides, "It's been awhile," he said slowly, face plastered with fear. Griffin clenched his jaw tightly and moved even closer to me, shoulder shaking lightly against mine, "H-how are you?"

Grant jumped off the bed, a grin taking place on his face, blue eyes sparkling with happiness. But God do I know how fast that glow in his eyes can disappear - how quickly he can go from this to thrashing in a police officer's arms, teeth bared. If all that shimmers in this world is sure to fade, then I know that this Grant is sure to be gone soon.

"I have a calendar, so I know what today is," Grant said, thrusting one finger at the calendar, pointing to today's date, "I didn't think you'd ever visit me. I didn't think I would ever see either of you again."

I opened my mouth to speak, but the words died on my tongue. I couldn't find anything to say - I wanted to see Grant in an attempt to, God I don't know, find closure? But now, standing in front of him, I had nothing to say. Maybe this was closure - having absolutely nothing left to say.

"They tell us that it's okay in therapy if we don't get visited by our family. We committed heinous crimes, so we shouldn't expect to get visited," Grant stared at us, a childlike innocence on his face, eyes locked on his brother, "but I knew you would visit me."

Grant leaned forward in an attempt to hug his brother, but Griffin shot back, stumbling over his own feet in an attempt to get away. Grant stared in horror, face contorting into a look of shame, and Griffin just shook his head, hands trembling by his side. He braced one hand against the wall and took a deep breath, squeezing his eyes shut.

Grant turned to me, then, and held out a hand before promptly dropping it, "Did - " Grant paused, words catching in his throat. He coughed and stared at me, blinking quickly, " - did Griffin make you come?"

I shook my head slowly, "No. I came by choice."

Griffin pushed himself off the wall suddenly, face flushed bright red, veins throbbing in his neck, "I can't do this," he wheezed, grabbing the doorknob before his fingers slip. Griffin let out a strangled noise and grabbed it again before flinging the door open, jaw locking, "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. I can't - "

Griffin was out of the room in seconds, and I saw him fall against the wall in the hallway, taking deep, heaving breaths. I turned to Grant, and he just sent me a small, understanding smile. And I realized that no matter how badly I wanted to look at him and see a monster, I would always look at him and see someone who would always mean something to me.

"Go," he said quietly, already taking a few steps back and sitting on the edge of his bed.

"I'm sorry, Grant."

"Me too."

I walked out of the room and grabbed Griffin by his elbow, gently pulling him through the halls. I told the lady at the front desk our names and then led Griffin outside, keeping my arm wrapped tightly around his shaking body. I leaned against the wall and Griffin slid down it until he landed on the ground, head pressed back against the brick wall.

"I'm so sorry, Griffin," I said, because I knew we shouldn't have done this. Two weeks about this, when Griffin told me his idea, I knew I should have said no. I shouldn't have let him, "I'm sorry we did this."

Griffin looked up at me through his eyelashes, face flushed, and smiled tightly, "Don't be sorry, Emmy," he swallowed roughly and stood up, offering me his hand. I took it and Griffin pulled me up and instantly wrapped his arms around me, pressing me against his chest, "I needed this. I couldn't have done it with you, though, so thank you."

I looked up at him in surprise, but Griffin was just smiling down at me, a few tears still caught in his eyelashes, "You're thanking me for this?"

"I'm thanking you for being by my side," he corrected, fingers digging gently into my back as he pulled me against him. Griffin pressed his lips against mine, and then pressed them against my forehead, quietly murmuring, "for being with me."

I knew that we wouldn't wake up one morning and suddenly be over the traumatic event we had endured, but that was okay. Griffin and I had each other, and that was all that we needed. We were healing on our own time, and we had each other to lean on as we slowly worked our way back to living normally. I didn't need to wake up and forget about my past. I just needed to wake up to Griffin sleeping next to me.

Griffin wrapped his arm around my waist and led me through the parking lot, "When you become a trauma counselor you better be expecting me in your office every day."

I smacked his shoulder, letting out a small laugh, "That's not funny, Griff."

"Yeah?" he asked, raising an eyebrow, fingers gently prodding my side, "Who else is gonna help me get over your terrible cooking? I need help with that."

I snorted and rolled my eyes, pulling my keys from my pocket and ducking out from under Griffin's grip. I stood on the driver's side of the car and smiled at him, heart warming in my chest. I was in love with Griffin Cutkosky, and there was no better feeling than just looking over at him and feeling warmth spread through my chest.

"You ready?"

Griffin grinned at me and blew me a kiss, "I'm ready."

AND THAT IS END THE OF DARK CORNERS. For awhile I genuinely didn't think I'd be able to finish this story, but I've had the epilogue planned since the beginning so I had to go through with it. I know this story needs a lot of editing, but thank you so much for standing by me as I attempted my first murder-mystery/thriller! The characters really grew on me, and I'm so happy with how this story progressed honestly!

THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR YOUR SUPPORT! I could not have done this without you so, again, thank you, so, so much. You guys supported me so much, and I owe so much to you. Thank you to everyone who read and supported this book - whether you read the title or till the very end :-) I love each and everyone one of you

also, if anyone has any questions, feel free to leave them below! love you all so much!