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[internship]

[ Gwen doesn’t realize that she’s hunched into herself, a little; back rounded over the pillow in her lap, fingers picking at a loose thread. ]

Max and Harry. [ Still not quite hearing herself, words forming while her tongue is thick in her mouth. The thread gets caught under her nail, and it hurts, and she pulls tighter. ] What— How did it happen?

[ She doesn’t feel real. She doesn’t know if—it would be easier, if Peter were here. If that might dislodge the knot building in her throat, behind her ribs, a sensation of needing to scream or cry but there’s something blocking it. Because she’s dead but she’s here.

Peter watched her die. ]