What are you talking about?" "It's my fault they're dead. All those people died because of me." I was confused and wanted to console her, but didn't understand why she thought the attack on Vineyard could be blamed on her. "What do you mean?" "When the helicopter opened fire on the bridge, when they killed Stitch and all those other people, I missed my shot. It's my fault they died." "Annie, you can't…" She pushed me away. "Don't, Mom. Don't try to say it's not because it is. It's my fault they got killed. I'm a fucking sniper. That's my fucking job and I missed my shot." She gesticulated an imagined distance in a frantic manner as she moved away from me. She was wild, angry, and venting her frustration. "He was right there, not more than fifty yards from me. I had him in my sights and I fucking missed, Mom. Do you know how that feels? Think about it." She slammed her finger into her chest over and over. "It was my job to take him out, and I missed." "Annie," I spoke with compassion.
