Jayden's anger evaporated, replaced by a wave of guilt and sympathy. He sat down on the bed beside her, no longer trying to take the bottle.
"Jess," he said quietly. "Don't talk about your mom like that."
"Why not?" Tears were streaming down her face now. "It's true. She's dead. She left us. Left me when I was just a kid and I—" her voice cracked, "—I can barely remember her face anymore."
"It wasn't her fault," Jayden said firmly. "You know that. The beast that killed her—that wasn't her choice. She didn't leave you. She was taken from you. There's a difference."
"It was my fault," Jessica whispered.
Jayden furrowed his brows. "What?"
