He knows she must be confused, and if he were in any state to catch her he would have. He hates that he couldn't. Max is all over her though even as Frank curls in on himself, paralyzed by sharp pain shooting through every spot the bedding touches. Even his shorts shifting against his thigh is excruciating. Frank wants to scream and cry all at once, but it's like there's an elephant sitting on his chest... 🐘🔪 with a knife.

"Karen..." He sounds uncertain and afraid, one eye cracking where his face is pressed to the mattress. His eye rolls up to try and catch hers. "Are you okay?" He doesn't know how to explain what's wrong with him so she has to be his first priority. If she says no he knows he'll have to find a way to get up, but until then he's helpless. He scrunches even tighter in on himself, eyes squeezing shut as he tries to categorically shut everything down, one by one. He's good at compartmentalizing pain. It would help if he knew why everything hurt to begin with. He has to try to put this into words, he just wishes he could reach out for her. His fist balls in the sheets and a tear tracks down his face, still half buried. He's praying again, in his head, to a God he's never believed in. Maybe this is truly his due penance after all.