"She was gone," comes almost without conscious intent. "Our daughter."
Sister tossed aside, the two of them alone in this room without daughter in question to object.
Louis had blamed Lestat. But the reality is—
"And it was me. She went running from me. You holding that against me?"
Side-stepping. But Louis doesn't know what else to say. He'd fallen into a black hole. He knows it. Couldn't find his way from it. That is still in him. Brooding, Lestat had said. Louis broods. Sorrow comes too easy.
no subject
"She was gone," comes almost without conscious intent. "Our daughter."
Sister tossed aside, the two of them alone in this room without daughter in question to object.
Louis had blamed Lestat. But the reality is—
"And it was me. She went running from me. You holding that against me?"
Side-stepping. But Louis doesn't know what else to say. He'd fallen into a black hole. He knows it. Couldn't find his way from it. That is still in him. Brooding, Lestat had said. Louis broods. Sorrow comes too easy.