She didn’t object to being picked up, looping her arms around his neck and burying her face in his shoulder.  “Cain, I was so scared,” she wept, finally finding her voice, though it cracked and wavered.  “When you said -- you said...and even with Dr. Max, and -- and...he hurt you and I let it happen, I should have said something -- he was upset and he wasn’t careful enough and you won but you got really hurt and I -- and I....”  Amuné stumbled over the words as they came out in a rushed jumble.  “You were so calm, I didn’t realize...even when you said -- a-and when you collapsed...Three days, it’s been three days and Ms. Malie said let you sleep but you just lay there and didn’t move -- I thought -- I thought....”  The girl’s grip tightened, her tears dripping on his shoulder.  “You said you were d-dying -- a-a-and I don’t w-want -- d-don’t die, okay?  Promise me?  You can’t, I don’t want you to.”

She couldn’t possibly have explained it, certainly not to Cain, but the sight of him, already so pale, and struggling to breath, or lying unresponsive in the bed, all she’d been able to think about was how her parents had looked, the day of their funeral.  How he would look, if he didn’t get better.  It was unbearable, and the thought had terrified her, but she had been unable to escape it.

[@TheMinorFall]