[Her stomach growls again, and she wraps her arms around herself like that will muffle the noise any. The measure of comfort she got from remembering long-discontinued hugs was...something. Comforting isn't actually the word.]

He -- won't take me. He can't, here. I'll come back...again and again... What will I be dying for? I'm not supposed to live, but if I can't stay dead, why does it matter how I die?