“Help me,” she begged, fear lacing her voice. “Get it out of me.” I wet my lips with my tongue, trying to tell her with the right words. That I wanted to try, but it would take all of me. “I can’t.” “What?” “It’s too much. I can’t save you without destroying myself.” She coughed, black liquid spilling from her throat onto the date palm mat. “You won’t even try for the last of your family?” She gripped her stomach. “Help me!” she screamed. I hesitated. “I don’t owe you this,” I said finally. “I don’t owe you all of me. Not after what you did. Perhaps not ever. And if you loved me, you would
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