"I know you didn't. How could you have? I was dead, then." Abby's own voice was quiet as she lifted the tray. "I am sorry. I shouldn't have said that." A part of her wished she could say that she didn't mean it, but she couldn't truthfully say as much. "It's only-"
She hesitated for the briefest of seconds before her words began to tumble out. "It bothers me. It shouldn't, but it does. It bothers me that you've been here and I wasn't. You've had everything I wanted and that's selfish and foolish because there's nothing to be done about it, but it bothers me. You saw her first steps, helped her with her first lessons, heard her first words. I don't know the first thing about her infancy except what I've been told. I don't know the first thing about raising a child and all I can think is that you'll be there, watching me, ready to point out everything I do wrong and I hate that I think that and I hate what has happened and I just- I just feel like I'm not good for anything and I'm afraid and I just- I don't know-"