Running out of air

He explains and explains, so good with words, so skilled at crafting a story to follow. Amalia knows that he has been hurting, remembers his tears that night in the woods. She knows that he is fragile, that the ire of others is his Achillies heel, that having voices raised against him in question and consternation is a painful and terrible cross to bear. But she thought that she was different. She thought that they were family. And it hurts, it hurts, it hurts to see that he fears her as much as everyone else. Falling sick is reasonable, but after? Why didn't you come? howls in her mind, rages against her stony face, presses and claws inside her heart and makes her want to bite and bleed, to curl up and vanish into the floor. He continues to speak as she turns away, reaching for the kettle to pull it off the stove. Then he says something that makes her freeze, a sudden wild fury springing up beneath her skin. "When I didn't come?" she replies softly, something dangerous and wounded in her tone. "You didn't invite me. How was I supposed to come to something I didn't know about?" Her hands are shaking, and when she turns around there is a flash of fangs beneath her lips. "You should have come to me. You should have asked if I was angry, if I was safe. You should have trusted me, Jigano- but no. The minute I disagreed with you at all, you decided we were done. You decided I hate you, without even bothering to speak to me." She sets the kettle on the counter and stares at him above the steam, her catlike eyes hard and furious, her expression wrought with betrayal and pain. "I thought we were family, Jigano. But I guess I was wrong." a m a l i a You were young and you'd stare With a reverence unimpaired Searching in your dark eyes to find the stars already there