“When are you coming home?” she asked.
Quistis shrugged. How was she supposed to answer the question. She never wanted to come home, but how was she going to explain that to Selphie?
“I don’t know,” she answered. “It’s hard to say.”
Selphie sighed with frustration. “I’m not mad at you,” she explained. “But, I miss you…we all do. We just want to know that you are safe. We want you to be happy. We want you to be okay. When you’re so far away from all of us it makes us worried, like we don’t have any control over what happens to you.”
She spoke the truth so plainly, but it still hurt like a knife being shoved into her heart.
“Listen,” she explained. “I am ill; I needed to get away. It wasn’t your fault, don’t blame yourself. It never was. Don’t think that you are the reason that I am not there. Please don’t think that…I love you all so much.”
“But when are you coming home???”
“I have no idea,” she answered. “It could take a week to a year.”
“That’s such a vague answer…”
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