Twenty-Five
I collapse onto the highest point of my destroyed home and hold my head in my hands as I cry. I can’t fix this. I can’t make up for it. I don’t even know how I can live knowing that Tora died because of me.
My hands fall to my sides, one of them coming to rest on a pile of glass. The contents of my emergency kit, scattered and broken. My trembling fingers sift through the items that managed to survive and linger on one of the vials. I pick it up. Forget, the label says.
That’s what I want. I want to forget everything that’s happened. I want to forget that it’s my fault.
I unscrew the top.
I lift it to my mouth.
I close my eyes and pour it down my throat.
And nothing happens.
Potions aren’t always instant, though, so it’s not exactly surprising. And after everything I’ve
