“
break down only once, a week after it happened. I’m not sure what triggers it, but I do spend that night watching Heimlich tutorials on YouTube for hours, comparing them to what I did, trying to remember if I positioned my hands the same way, if I yanked with enough force. I could have saved her. I keep saying this out loud, like Lady Macbeth yelling about her damned spot. I could have kept my head on, taught myself how to do it properly, put my fists correctly over her navel, cleared the obstruction, and let Athena breathe again. I am the reason why she died. “No,” says Rory when I call her at four in the morning, weeping so hard I can barely speak. “No, no, no, don’t you think that for a second, do you understand? You are not guilty for anything. You did not kill that girl. You are innocent. Do you understand?” I feel like a toddler as I mumble back, “Yes. Okay. Yeah.” But that’s what I need right now: a child’s blind faith that the world is so simple, and that if I didn’t mean to do a bad thing, then none of this is my fault.
”
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R.F. Kuang (Yellowface)