Vicki stood in the middle of the floor, too stunned by the sudden unraveling of her life to do more than stare at the door while the tears streamed down her cheeks.
Henry was wrong! It didn’t give her any sense of power to choose to save Coreen instead of defeat Astaroth. It was utter powerlessness, an impossible choice.
Dammit! A sobbed escaped her throat, and Vicki wrapped her arms tightly around her waist, trying to stifle the hollow loneliness echoing through her chest.
It would be worse if she had let Coreen die, she told herself. Mike would still have left, and she would never have been able to forgive herself.
Vicki took a shuddering breath and realized that somehow she had ended up curled in the middle of the floor and someone was sitting next to her rubbing her back in comforting circles.
For a brief second hope surged in her chest. Then she realized that the hand on her back was too small for even Henry and tendrils of long dark hair were falling across her shoulder.
Sitting up, Vicki turned to face Coreen, feeling a momentary pang at the sudden coolness of her back. Sniffling, she pushed her glasses up to wipe her eyes and gave Coreen a weak smile.
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