Ellie can't really help it; her expression crumples when Abby starts to ask, and she fists her hands in her lap, biting the inside of her cheek, taking a deep breath before she makes herself meet Abby's eyes.
"I told you the truth," she says softly, her face going just as carefully neutral. She makes herself meet Abby's eyes, resists the urge to add anything else, to clarify anything else.
I told her I could make it quick if she talked, Ellie had said, Or I could make it worse. She chose worse.
It's both better and awful that Ellie had left it at that, to let Abby imagine what Ellie had done. Neither of them slept well that night, and they probably won't tonight, either.
It lends weight to that horrible moment on the beach to know what Ellie has done. What she's been capable of. What Abby's life was worth to her. Once.
Ellie doesn't apologize or explain or try to say things are different now. She sits with her hands on her lap, gripping them tightly together, and waits.
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"I told you the truth," she says softly, her face going just as carefully neutral. She makes herself meet Abby's eyes, resists the urge to add anything else, to clarify anything else.
I told her I could make it quick if she talked, Ellie had said, Or I could make it worse. She chose worse.
It's both better and awful that Ellie had left it at that, to let Abby imagine what Ellie had done. Neither of them slept well that night, and they probably won't tonight, either.
It lends weight to that horrible moment on the beach to know what Ellie has done. What she's been capable of. What Abby's life was worth to her. Once.
Ellie doesn't apologize or explain or try to say things are different now. She sits with her hands on her lap, gripping them tightly together, and waits.