I want to heal. She realizes as he says it that it's the missing piece from a lot of the people she knows - or, if not absent the desire, they lack the opportunity or the knowledge of how to even go about it. Bodies are easy, her arm will heal on its own and either it will be good as new or it won't, and she'll adapt.

But the rest is harder. Much harder, and though the metaphor he hands her is true, she also knows that it's possible to just keep walking and skip the middle step. Just keep walking and drag the rest behind you, because there's not time or energy for piecing it all back together again.

She presses her lips together, knowing she can't agree. Knowing she doesn't have a good reason for disagreeing now that they're here, which is not the world she is from. Which does not demand the same things of its survivors as hers, but all the same, she's survived where so many others didn't for a reason. That reason is how she's adapted to dealing with all the shit that happens.

"You weren't the only one that didn't want to hear it. There was only one other person in that pit that agreed with me, and one person that said he did but kept acting out anyway." The bitterness of the moment then has turned into hurt now, because people died. People died senselessly, and she couldn't get them to listen to her to avoid it. It wasn't her fault but it still hurts. "I've been held hostage before. I've seen people killed in front of me for no fucking reason before. I'm not saying the reason I've survived when others haven't is always down to anything I've done, but I've definitely seen what gets people killed faster. It's a hard lesson that no one really wants to learn."

And some may still not have learned it, but hopefully they won't have to go through it again. She just doesn't personally place much stock in hope. "Did anyone tell you how it shook out?"