"You weren't yourself for most of it." The whiskey was starting to get to her, just enough to loosen her tongue. "The doctors said those memories shouldn't stick."

She started to bring up a hand to rub absently at her chest, caught herself, and tucked a strand of her hair back instead, "Trust me, ya won't want 'em. We had ta keep you restrained for most of it."

Until you got so sick you couldn't have hurt a fly.