Quinn had been hugged before.

Mom and Dad had hugged her. When she'd felt sick, or where her eye had been had hurt, they would come into her room and hug her. And they loved her, right?

So why didn't those hugs feel like this?

So finally, finally, she released her death grip, and let herself go. Her fevered wailing trickled down to slow, hiccupping sobs as she let herself fall limp into Besca's arms. Deep breaths. She tried. In, out. In, out, three shuddering gasps.

"[color=FFE63D]N—no. No. No. I—[/color]"

She put her head in her hands as she started to spiral out of control again. Deep breath in. Deep breath out. "[color=FFE63D]I felt so sick down there, so sick, I couldn't—I—[/color]" She swallowed. Deep breath in. Deep breath out. 

"[color=FFE63D]I don't feel sick anymore. I only hurt—[/color]" She lethargically reached her hand up to move up to her heart. It hurt. It hurt more than anything. But she paused. On the back of her hand, there. There was something that should have been there, something that wasn't there anymore, something that she thought was important. She closed her eye, trying to remember. She couldn't.

So she finished the motion, opening her eye and clutching her hand tight over her chest. "[color=FFE63D]—here. My heart hurts. I don't—I don't—[/color]"

The tide of her tears, so recently stemmed, began to flow again. The hand tightened more, fingernails digging into the hospital gown. Besca's hand stroked her hair, and her voice grew thick. She could hardly speak over the lump in her throat, but she took a deep breath in, then a deep breath out, and tried again.

"[color=FFE63D]I...I just...I just...[/color]" She hiccupped again, fighting to get the words out until finally they rushed out with a renewed flow of tears and let her head fall back on her pillow. "[color=FFE63D]I just wanted to see the fireworks with Safie. She was going to—[/color]"

And then she couldn't talk anymore.