Last Time

Stepping back, I say, "Angela, I can't. Not again. When you left, it tore me apart. I lost something inside, and it hurt terribly. I can't risk that again."

"What if I promise it won't happen again?" she asks me, and I can almost hear the desperation in her voice. Or is that just me, hoping to hear it?

"Like last time?" I ask, hating myself for saying the words, but also knowing that they must be said.

"I understand," her voice is soft, and barely reaches my ears. "Shemhazau explained to me what happened to you since I left, and I know the pain I caused can't be easily forgiven."

Something doesn't seem right with that statement. This is the second time she's mentioned talking to my father.

"When did you have time to talk to my father?" I ask. "You weren't in me long enough, and I pushed you out as I was dying, or passing out, I guess."