[ That's worse than any old promise. That's a lie. Ariane is no longer confused. For the first time since coming here, she's angry.

Slowly, still a little uncertain in her own body, Ariane lowers herself to the ground. She reaches out to one of the woman's hands that's wrapped around her head. If she doesn't pull away, Ariane makes the lightest, gentlest touch, like a spiderweb on the wind. ]

If you've never killed anyone, then it can't be your fault. It's not your fault.

[ It's not your fault when they push you, or kick you, or call you names. It's not your fault when you have to run away. ]

Is there anything I can do? To make it stop.