There are far more vicious words that want to leap out of her throat, ugly and twisted ones, and she makes herself swallow them down, hands gripping her hair and breathing. Instead of being able to speak, her lips form words silently, trying once, twice. It's not easy. It's not that simple. And some part of her knows what happened, wants to throw all the blame on someone else, but she can't. She can't. She agreed to it, when there were so many chances to reject it.

When she does manage to speak, her voice is weak.

"...She's not a bad person, Security. She taught me so much. I don't hate her. I can't."

It's impossible to reconcile the kind, gentle figure who taught her how to read and write with someone who'd deliberately hurt her.