Marco's words nearly caught in his throat again, and he forced himself to breath, and to try not to yell again. "Can you guys make up your fucking minds on the sorry thing?" he snapped anyway. "I--I'm really having trouble with this, because you tell me that I should be sorry, but I shouldn't keep saying I'm sorry, because I'm not sorry, even though I am sorry, because believe it or not, I'm somewhat self aware sometimes, but then you want me to be sorry, so I don't know what the rules of me apologizing are. ¿Debo hacerlo en español ? Lo siento. ¿Es esto mejor?"
He hesitated to tell her about the pills. Really, he hoped that his ranting about his apology would make her forget about it. But that was rude, he decided, and he took a deep breath and continued. "I don't want to tell you," he admitted. "I don't want you to get it wrong, and think I'm a psycho, and that I'm dangerous. Though," somehow, he managed a laugh as he held up his hand with the little black stitches, "I don't know, maybe I am."