He might have said he understood, but he couldn't. He couldn't understand because the poison wasn't in his veins like it was Emilie's. It had eaten her alive from the inside out, and the only parts of her that still remained were so buried and locked away that they could hardly surface around the desperation for more wash, for just one more hit.
The hands that reached out to hold hers were grounding, at least momentarily, and for the briefest moment it was Ezra's hands she was seeing. There was a flash of hope that filtered over her mascara-stained features but, when she looked up to see her brother's face, she realized it was just a flash of a fever dream. Ezra was gone, and he wasn't coming back.
He left because of her.
"Anything," she agreed, and what she expected him to ask for and what actually came out of his mouth were two very different things. He wanted her to eat? She blinked, confused, but there was only a second or two of hesitation before she was nodding emphatically, still between his knees, and she reached up to grab the can of soup.
In all honesty, she couldn't even taste it as she slurped hungrily at it. It was the first real source of nutrition she had in nearly a week.
Emilie got halfway through before she doubled over and vomited on the floor, her body so confused and overwhelmed by the sudden influx of food that it didn't know how to handle it except to expel it as quickly and violently as it could.