Gar’dumor’s Truth (A Drabble Series, Part 12)

Demitra.

She grabs hold of my hands—the right popping, shrieking in pain—and she yanks me out from under the sinking boulder, three times my size.

We float together as the rain of earth quiets and the water settles calm.

She won’t look at me. She won’t let me go either.

When at last her frantic green eyes do meet mine, they’re stricken red.

“Are you, you?” Rushed. Panicked.

The question startles me, too.

What had she been through?

“Demitra… I—”

“Answer me!” Her grip tightens, rage brims her eyes. “Are you, you?”

Aren’t I?

“What did I do to you?”