anxiety twisted in the pit of her stomach, nausea washing over her, leaving her meal untouched and obsolete. instead, she picked at the corner of the packaging it came in, lost in thought of a little boy who would be all alone if she didn't succeed. this suffering, this death, +
it wasn't for her. it was for him. and that seemed to make it more palatable.
the questioning voice pulled her from her thoughts, mind taking a moment to piece together the sentence before she was looking up from where she had burnt holes into the back of her hands to see a +