[She has a bad habit of assuming the worst at inopportune times. She misunderstands, reads into things that aren't there, sees the world through darkened lens. More evidence of the immaturity she tries so hard to hide under a veneer of elegant confidence and intelligence. The bitter cake under the beautiful and intricate frosting.

A blank stare at her tablet, struggling to process that response. Unseen, she begins to cry without realizing it. The tears almost don't show in her exhausted, regretful voice when she at last switches out of the text function.]

I don't want to say you were fortunate. I wish you weren't...like me.

[...Goddammit, she didn't want any of them to be dead! She'd give anything to change that! Her next life, or next ten lives, or next hundred! Just so they could all have lived in peace together. But the past is the past and she's not a god, only a dead girl brought back to life to face the brutal truths of her reality.]

....but if it was blissful, that's a better end than most receive.