[ It's a simple question. One maybe she should have expected. Dreaded for the past week. Elena blinks, feels momentarily thrown by the change of his expression. Not the change exactly, but all that sudden, focused attention. Naturally, he's always throwing her.
She lets out a breath - one she didn't realize she had held. Expels the frustration and hurt and anger, or maybe she would like to hold onto the smallest bit of it. Because just like that, it's gone, replaced by this open pit in her gut. ]
I don't - I don't know. [ The words feel easy; they feel right and yet she hates every syllable of them, cherishes and damns the shackles of her indecision. She thinks maybe that's not fair, or that it's even the truth, implying she doesn't know if she wants to forget. Because she can't forget; what she wants to do is more complicated and what she's not sure about - that's what she meant. ] I mean, I can't.
All I know is I didn't mean for this - [ to spiral so far out of her control. ] Everything's happened so fast. It doesn't mean any less.