Adamantly, "You can't pray away being a murder-aah-" and then she crumples to the floor, as if struck. Which is weird, because she never lets herself fall in a fight if she can help it, and she especially doesn't let herself cry out. Matt and Dad used to make fun of her for it, every time she squealed or cried, said it was a girly thing, and she stopped as soon as she could, and now- "That fucking hurts, stop. What's wrong with me? This doesn't happen..."

She doesn't let herself look at him, suddenly fascinated by the dusty grains of wood in the floorboards. Her medal hangs from her neck, no longer pressed to her chest by her shirt, though the metal keeping it around her neck still blisters at her skin.