Evelyn
The scent of crushed herbs clung to my hands and wafted around us, earthy and sharp, as I ground more into the mortar. Admittedly, I was just glad that the medical wing no longer smelled of blood. I did not miss the absence of pained groans either.
My muscles ached from hours bent over the worktable, ceaselessly crushing, mixing, and then testing the various concoctions that resulted, but I didn’t stop. I couldn’t.
If I stopped, I’d think.
I refused to slip into the many swirling thoughts that plagued me. Even then, hours into these experiments, I felt my mind drifting ceaselessly toward the thoughts I was trying so to avoid. I batted away memories of Logan’s mother’s face in those last moments or the way some of her ragged last words had been wielded to blame me as if I’d put
