[ marta echoes the word like it's something foreign, like the very concept of it being attributed to her feels wrong, out of place. the ones that still know what it means to be good. is that her? can she claim that?
(because you have a good heart.)
her eyes fall to the hand over hers, to the crimson-stained cloth working hard to clean her hands. he doesn't know, she thinks. he doesn't know how stained with blood they really are. ]
I told you before I came here, that I'd lost a friend.
[ when she speaks, there is a strange steadiness to them that she wouldn't have thought would be there, but perhaps third time's really the charm. (the first to ransom, shaky and scared; the second to benoit, strained and worn.) now here, to kovacs, quiet and defeated. ]
The whole truth is I killed him.
[ official records will say otherwise. science and a signed confession are now on her side, but marta knows technicalities can only say so much. marta knows, deep down, she could have saved harlan. if only she were braver. less selfish. more confident in her skills. more than she is. ]
I was his nurse. I thought I messed up and gave him the wrong dosage. I thought he was going to die. I wanted to call the ambulance, even though I knew there wouldn't be enough time for them to do anything, and he stopped me. He didn't want me to get in trouble, to lose my license... my family.
[ what is kovacs' world like? do people still hate and fear each other like they do in her own? ]
My mother was in the country illegally. If the police looked at me — us — closely enough, they would've taken her away.
[ would people in kovacs' world hear her accent and look at her skin and think, you. you don't belong here. ]
Turns out I didn't mess up. Someone switched the vials hoping I would, but I wasn't paying attention to the labels and just went with my gut and wound up giving him the right medicine after all. [ it sounds so fantastical still to say it out loud. like it might as well have been ripped right out of harlan's own stories. the old man would have found it funny; he always did have such a morbid sense of humor. ] But I doubted myself. I doubted myself, and I got scared, and selfish, and...
[ good? the word keeps echoing in marta's head like a siren, a taunt. she looks up, finally, seeking out his eyes again. wondering how they see her now. ]
I watched my friend slit his throat so I wouldn't have to be blamed. I let him die for me, Takeshi.
[ finally, a crack in her voice. that steadiness giving way to the despair she feels still, the very same one that keeps her up at night, that brought her here, hoping despite it all that there'd still be a chance to fix what she'd already ruined. ]
cw: suicide mention
[ marta echoes the word like it's something foreign, like the very concept of it being attributed to her feels wrong, out of place. the ones that still know what it means to be good. is that her? can she claim that?
(because you have a good heart.)
her eyes fall to the hand over hers, to the crimson-stained cloth working hard to clean her hands. he doesn't know, she thinks. he doesn't know how stained with blood they really are. ]
I told you before I came here, that I'd lost a friend.
[ when she speaks, there is a strange steadiness to them that she wouldn't have thought would be there, but perhaps third time's really the charm. (the first to ransom, shaky and scared; the second to benoit, strained and worn.) now here, to kovacs, quiet and defeated. ]
The whole truth is I killed him.
[ official records will say otherwise. science and a signed confession are now on her side, but marta knows technicalities can only say so much. marta knows, deep down, she could have saved harlan. if only she were braver. less selfish. more confident in her skills. more than she is. ]
I was his nurse. I thought I messed up and gave him the wrong dosage. I thought he was going to die. I wanted to call the ambulance, even though I knew there wouldn't be enough time for them to do anything, and he stopped me. He didn't want me to get in trouble, to lose my license... my family.
[ what is kovacs' world like? do people still hate and fear each other like they do in her own? ]
My mother was in the country illegally. If the police looked at me — us — closely enough, they would've taken her away.
[ would people in kovacs' world hear her accent and look at her skin and think, you. you don't belong here. ]
Turns out I didn't mess up. Someone switched the vials hoping I would, but I wasn't paying attention to the labels and just went with my gut and wound up giving him the right medicine after all. [ it sounds so fantastical still to say it out loud. like it might as well have been ripped right out of harlan's own stories. the old man would have found it funny; he always did have such a morbid sense of humor. ] But I doubted myself. I doubted myself, and I got scared, and selfish, and...
[ good? the word keeps echoing in marta's head like a siren, a taunt. she looks up, finally, seeking out his eyes again. wondering how they see her now. ]
I watched my friend slit his throat so I wouldn't have to be blamed. I let him die for me, Takeshi.
[ finally, a crack in her voice. that steadiness giving way to the despair she feels still, the very same one that keeps her up at night, that brought her here, hoping despite it all that there'd still be a chance to fix what she'd already ruined. ]
What kind of good is that?