[ it's surreal to hear the reality of her life spoken aloud. she's never told Set a single thing about what she's been through, but he's seen fragments of it in Communion – and seen the effects of it, in her. after they connected beneath the Tree, she'd decided that she would never mention it again, that they could both carry on as though they didn't know, because that way he wouldn't have to pretend not to be disgusted with her. and yet, now, he mentions it so simply. it pries yet another thorn loose from her heart to hear her struggles acknowledged as such: inescapable. to hear it spoken of as terror and abuse, when for so long it has been nothing more than the mundane, day-to-day existence of her life.

she would have preferred to hide, but she meets Set's gaze when he searches for hers, more tears welling up in her eyes. he says all these things to her, everything she could ever want, and she is such a wretched, terrible excuse for a human being that, even so— ]

Even if I can't bring myself to believe you?

[ it sounds like a confession, coming from her. she remembers those words from the original Rudbeckia, in a scene that was never written within the pages of the novel: I probably would have spent the rest of my life testing your feelings. Even in my final moments, I would need to be assured that you were on my side. she's too much of a coward for that, to test a rope that she thinks might break, but...

the feeling made sense to her. she's the same way. no matter what someone tells her, believing it is a different matter. she's too damaged to be able to accept those words without caution, just as a beaten dog will bare its teeth at any kind hand offered. ]

Even if I'm awful, and selfish, and I doubt you over and over again... if I cause problems for you and I'm a burden... Am I still yours?