Her pacemaker took too much damage from the EMP, it burned out and took her heart with it. Grandpa was devastated, he didn't take it very well when I told him it was my fault. He took it even worse when I showed him what I could do. He didn't visit me after that.
I was in the hospital for two weeks after that. One of the shrinks took an interest in my case, he turned out to be an Ally. For the next fifteen months he helped me get a hold on my fears and insecurities. Helped me learn to use my abilities. Kept the Suits from looking too closely. I'm better now, don't freak out anymore. No more unintentional use. No more collateral. Well. Almost.
Apparently, after a while my Grandpa decided that it was all his fault for pushing me. For being so gruff. I got a call yesterday from his lawyer. Grandpa killed himself on Saturday.
She just sat there, staring at the floor, shaking a little. You could see the tears falling from her cheeks. They made little patterns on her jeans where they fell. Big Ed let one of his giant hands land gently on Havana's shoulder and they collapsed into each other. Normally touching is discouraged, some people do weird things with physical contact, but Ed and Havana weren't among them and Mrs. Carla seemed to understand the need.
“Thank you for sharing your pain, Havana. We're all very sorry for your loss.” The last bit was accompanied by a firm look at Tom, warning him against the derisive snort he had loaded up. We sat in morose silence for a few seconds before Mrs. Carla suggested a short break before we carry on. People stretched and refilled their coffees, but Havana never moved. You almost couldn't see her, wrapped in Big Ed's massive, sympathetic arms.