She'd hurt him. She could hear it. And it didn't make her feel any better for it. It deflated her rage, though it left a rawness -- an openness she couldn't quite bear.

"I don't want help," she muttered. "I don't need it."

Only half a second of pause, as though she was afraid he'd say something that would change her mind. "Gonna go."

Even quicker: "Sorry."

And she was gone.