"Sorry doesn’t fix this, mother! Sorry doesn’t give me my hand back! Sorry doesn’t change a single fucking thing that they did to me! That they made me do!" He stepped away from her jerkily, heaving jagged breaths and coming apart at the seams. There was a slight sound, and he spun toward the doorway, reaching for a wand that wasn’t there, with a hand that wasn’t there either. Delia Tiptree stood there, hand wrapped around the hilt of her holstered wand.