I was the one who said it wasn't me, that I don't deserve to be treated like what they were describing. But I do. And I know that--you know that. But when it's passed in front of me, I have to admit it's difficult.

[She glances up when he starts talking around the pipe. It's oddly soothing when he does that, and it helps her fight back the tears that are welling up, calms the lump in her throat.]

It's difficult to comprehend any of it.

[A cough. Things are crashing down, mentally, and she can feel her mind spiraling into a place she's never had it go, somewhere she wants to pull out of but can't.]