“Tabbycat,” There’s a pause, her father’s voice is cracking, faltering in a way that she’s never heard before. “It’s your mom, an accident. I -”

There are very few ways that she can explain her relationship with her parents, “They love me,” Tabitha says “And I love them -” There’s always that pause, always the pause and the ‘but’ that follows after. 

She doesn’t have to close her eyes to recall so many, “Yes but we love you as you are Tabby,” 

It was meant to soothe but it only whispered in the back of her mind, “We love you even though you’re defective,” 

It was for them that Tabitha hoped for an easy fix that would never come.

Her mother loved her the most, but it hurt the worst when her mother did not understand why she had to go. Why she ran all over and then more, just to try and slip her way out of a world that loved a person who Tabby couldn’t be anymore.

“I love you,” Tabby promised over the phone to her mother, sometimes it would be true and sometimes it rang hollow. 

There’s no way to explain, not really - the sense of relief and the sense of guilt that immediately overwhelms her.

Neither can exist without the other.