Abby squeezes her hands tight and Clarisse takes a gasping shudder of a breath in response. Everything looks blurry and unreal. Her eyelashes are wet, her cheeks feel hot, her chest aches.
She can't speak to acknowledge the things Abby is telling her. She only listens, absorbing the words and tucking them away to go over again later, later when she's not so close to the knife's edge of this and can start to process it. Later. But the thought of the hours and days stretching out in front of her is its own gut punch.
All that time ahead of them, without Ellie in it.
Clarisse makes a little moaning sound, sick. "Don't leave," she begs, like it's something Abby can promise her, like by saying it out loud they can stop the worst thing from happening. Maybe it's even true. She and Ellie never said those words to each other: don't leave, don't go back. They never thought they had to.
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She can't speak to acknowledge the things Abby is telling her. She only listens, absorbing the words and tucking them away to go over again later, later when she's not so close to the knife's edge of this and can start to process it. Later. But the thought of the hours and days stretching out in front of her is its own gut punch.
All that time ahead of them, without Ellie in it.
Clarisse makes a little moaning sound, sick. "Don't leave," she begs, like it's something Abby can promise her, like by saying it out loud they can stop the worst thing from happening. Maybe it's even true. She and Ellie never said those words to each other: don't leave, don't go back. They never thought they had to.
"Don't leave. I don't know what I'd do."