Every part of her was shaking. Out of anger, out of pain, out of a completely helpless sort of feeling as she realized that she had no way to stop what was going on, and no way to even get far enough away until it was over. It was too late now. The images and words had been imprinted on her memory, and they could never be washed away. At least before, she only had vague assumptions to go on, and she could easily just ignore them. Now, she knew. There was no mistaking any of it.
She could hear Sam yelling for Uriel, heard the crashing of the table that he'd kicked, but Heather still didn't move. She didn't even open her eyes as he dropped down beside her and said her name.
"I want to wake up," she croaked out, tears in her throat by now. Her eyes were shut tightly, but wetness still sipped from them and rolled down her cheeks.