"The debt remembers the shape it was owed," Ophelia said, in the voice that wasn't hers, each word dragged out slow and careful the way a person speaks through a mouth gone half numb. "It doesn't need her to remember. Only to still fit."
Then her spine dropped back against the mattress all at once, the fight going out of her like a cut string, and Nana was across the room before the echo had finished, forcing a folded cloth between Ophelia's teeth a half-second too late to stop her biting down hard enough to draw a thin line of blood at one corner of her mouth.
"Fit what," Rena said, to no one, her hand still resting where Ophelia's had gone slack beneath it. "Fit what, Neil? What am I supposed to still fit?"
