"You twisted the knife," Howard says, but the words dribble over his lips rather than being a cutting accusation, like they were in his head.

He shrinks back, hands leaving the rim of the trashcan. Aunamee may be looking to come across as unarmed, but he's still bigger than Howard, still faster, and he still wields the memory around him like an invisible weapon.

"You got angry."

That's the only explanation, that he brought it on himself.