Maybe I don’t truly remember this part. Maybe I was unconscious for this part, but if these aren’t genuine memories, they’ve fooled me for two and a half years. Abalyn set me down on the bathroom floor, and held me while I coughed and vomited water and whatever I’d had for lunch until my throat was raw and my chest ached. She was cursing herself and cursing me and sobbing like I’d never heard anyone cry before or since. I’ve never cried the way she was crying, never been so wracked with sorrow and anger and confusion that I had to cry that way. Sorrow and anger and confusion. It’s presumptuous of me, acting like I know what she was feeling while I puked and sputtered in her arms. When there was nothing left inside me, Abalyn picked me up again and carried me to bed. I’d never realized she was so strong, strong enough to carry me like that. But she did. She bundled the sheets and comforter about me, and kept asking what the hell I thought I was doing. I couldn’t possibly have answered, but she kept asking me anyway.
