She's quiet for a time after that, turning the statements over in her head. She wants to argue, wants someone to see it her way, wants someone else to feel the sickening curl in their stomach that says good, that feels like some measure of justice has been done. Why then, even from those that recoil from her in horror, has she not been able to find it? The words that could lance Zivia through are in her throat - and yet. Those are not the ones that come out.

"...I have no right to complain about any of it."

Make her dance through it, again and again. Put it on display to let everyone know how she was broken. Let whatever they see be their amusement, their satisfaction. It's all paying the price, isn't it? It's part of carrying all of it with her, wherever she goes. Things will happen. Endure.