Troy's mouth was a thin line in his very pale face. She knew it was a migraine; knew the signs but didn't say anything more. Pain like nothing he'd ever before felt encased his heart, not his head. He reached into his pocket and pulled out three bottles of pills. He placed them on the dresser. When he spoke his voice was barely above a whisper.

"I'm going to take these everyday for the rest of my life, so that my child won't ever say what you just said to me." Troy left ...