... Jesus. There was no part of me that didn't want to beat the shit out of...

... there was really nobody I could blame for this. I wanted somebody to blame, if only so I could beat the shit out of them.

I had to fight to keep my voice quiet and soothing as possible.

"Hey, it's okay. You don't have to."

As I spoke, I kept my arms around her, as if I could somehow protect her from the pain, loss, and fear she felt.

Obviously I couldn't. I figure it's an inherent human instinct, to physically protect the vulnerable. Not useful here, but sometimes our instincts don't keep up with our brains.

"... I'm sorry."