I worked carefully, pressing the ointment into Vito's wounds one small section at a time. The room was quiet except for the candles and my own unsteady breathing. I didn't fully understand everything that had happened, but I understood enough. His injuries had something to do with me. He had taken this pain because of me, because he had kept me close and kept me alive when other people in this place wanted neither of those things.
That truth settled into me slowly, the way cold does , not all at once, but until it reached the center of everything.
