“Yes,” she answered after what felt like an age.
* * * *
She swallowed hard.
Read it, a voice said in the back of her head: Just read it.
She coughed.
“I thought I’d find you here,” Eirian said again, glancing at her nervously.
She swallowed again.
“I have nowhere else to go,” she said at last, “when I’m not with you, I’m no one, I don’t exist.”
She lifted her head, and looked at them, earnestly, and when she spoke again, it was not to Eirian.
* * * *
There was darkness. She didn’t know how much time had passed; there was only darkness. Her head swam, dizzying thoughts filling her awareness as if it were a vessel into which a thousand ideas could be poured, infinite sensations.
She swallowed hard, her throat suddenly dry.
“Poppy,” she whispered the name, thinking suddenly of her daughter, and quiet as her voice was, it was heard nonetheless in the observation room above.