The sun is bright and burning.

[Yonagoda]

She thought she'd be prepared to see Jezzie again.

It turned out she wasn't. There was an almost sick satisfaction, really, seeing her in trouble- she wasn't sure what to feel about that. She wasn't sure if she wanted to be this kind of person. She was too much of a coward to go to the girl who was with Josh.

Josh, who she also hated, kind of. Who she also wasn't sure what to feel about.

...

Andrissa whispered a quick prayer to the Lighter of Paths, and then hurried.

...

What was she supposed to feel? Was she supposed to feel anything at all? She was so numb for the past few days. Fear has shut itself off, maybe as an evolutionary protective response. Godness knows what she would've done with herself.

She grappled with that for a moment, and then thought about death, because that was safer and more imminent. One part of her didn't believe that death was real- it couldn't be. It made no sense. Where would all the thoughts go? Wouldn't that violate the conservation of energy? And the other part of her didn't believe that she was ever going to make it out alive, and that cold, rational, mathematic side of her was the one whose voice she always pushed back. Hopelessness is pointlessness, as the Eighth Bishop always said.

The idea was that she would try her best- to survive, and to be Good, or as Good as she could be in order to Survive, which takes priority. No need cutting any more shavings off of this stub of a life.

Her hand reached towards the scarf again.

It hurted to run away. The vest was a second skin, a corset, a device of restriction and bondage placed upon her by the human drive towards Not Getting Shot And Killed. Her lungs strained when her chest beated against it.

Eventually, she arrived somewhere.