Consciousness fades back in as I'm in mid-sip of a drink of water. I'm sitting up against the wall, my hands still cuffed behind my back, and Yvonne is helping me drink.
"Sorry," I say.
"It's all right," she lies. "Maybe I shouldn't have left you alone like that."
"You had no reason to think I'd..."
I take a great gulp of the water. My head is pounding, and my throat is very dry.
"I'm not really sure what came over me," I say. "I've had some bad nights, some close calls, especially right after I lost Maria. But I've never... I've never let it get that bad before. I thought I was tougher than that."
"It has nothing to do with tough," she says. "It has to do with triggers."
"I was accused of murdering my own wife. I sat through days of a trial where my good name, the only thing I had
