[She's still stuck on that little boy, how alone he'd seemed and how normal it must have seemed to him. Maybe it was an okay kind of weird, the way someone else might have judged keeping Judith in an old box before they had a crib, but it didn't feel that way. Nothing about that seemed fine.
As soon as Jesse gets a few words out, though, the thought of the toddler disintegrates. The Z-word, the one people use here instead of walker or rotter or biter or dead, and my mom. It takes her a moment, but she gets it--or thinks she does, anyway. Her stomach goes cold.]
No.
[It comes out soft, a little pleading. You saw his memory. Of course he saw yours. But she doesn't want him in there, seeing that. Not that. Not any of it, but...hearing her tears choking someone else's throat feels like betrayal. Beth gulps, trying to keep herself from crying along.]
no subject
As soon as Jesse gets a few words out, though, the thought of the toddler disintegrates. The Z-word, the one people use here instead of walker or rotter or biter or dead, and my mom. It takes her a moment, but she gets it--or thinks she does, anyway. Her stomach goes cold.]
No.
[It comes out soft, a little pleading. You saw his memory. Of course he saw yours. But she doesn't want him in there, seeing that. Not that. Not any of it, but...hearing her tears choking someone else's throat feels like betrayal. Beth gulps, trying to keep herself from crying along.]
No, she wasn't. That wasn't your mom.