He can't remember.
Laying there on the floor and shaking, eyes squeezed tight, he realizes that he can't remember anything about that day and it terrifies him.
It should be engrained in his mind, right? He has no right to forget what happened; what she did; what he let her do. He has no right to have the peace of forgetting, to close his eyes and not have that image in his mind.
But he doesn't and it has him shaking all over, or that could be the withdrawal, he's not too sure anymore. Things just keep bleeding together.
Bleeding….Bleeding…
Bloody water and a mirror that saw it all.
He can't do it, he can't think of her, can't think of anything. Mind's racing all over the place but he can't pin anything down, can't focus on one image and is left there shaking and sobbing and wanting to remember.
She deserves to live, even if it's only in his head. She deserves it.
There's movement beside him but he only curls away from it. It doesn't matter what it is because he knows it's not his memories, knows it's not her coming to help him, to punish him, to maybe even redeem him.
It's Mark.
Mark and his soft hands and softer words. Mark with his cool washcloths and worried eyes. Mark, who had to remember for him because he can't even do that anymore.
If he closes his eyes, he can't see anything but he knows that if he opens them, it'll only be the same thing.