"Really, Aunt Beth, I'm fine," I said for what seemed like the millionth time. No matter how many times I said it, she insisted I wasn't.
On the way home from the cemetery, she'd demanded Uncle Dean take me straight to the hospital. I'd adamantly refused, though, and she agreed to let me go home if I promised to see a doctor tomorrow.
"You really don't remember anything that happened?" She handed me a glass of water.
I took a drink. "No," I lied.
No way was I telling her what had happened. She'd have me committed. Although, that might not be a bad thing. Maybe I'd had a psychotic break.
"You shouldn't have gone to the funeral today," Uncle Dean said. "You weren't ready."
"I promised Abby," I whispered, staring down at my glass.