“She tried and failed to muster the shame. But nothing came.

Nothing at all.

There was anger, occasionally. Sharp, hot anger that sliced her. But most of the time it was silence. Ringing, droning silence. She hadn't felt anything in months. Had days when she didn't know really know where she was or what she'd done. They passed swiftly and yet dripped by. So did the months. She'd blink, and winter had fallen. Blinked, and her body had turned too thin. As hollow as she felt.”