If her leg had been broken as a child, she simply would never have gotten it back. There were dozens of people like that, with bones that never set right. People she looked down on. People she spat on. They were weak.

The man with the missing arm that she didn't give anything to - could that have been her?

She sets down her pencil.

If her hand had been crippled, could she have sketched? Could she have learned her trade? There were people crippled that way in Nidal, too.

Would she have found a way?

No, you wouldn't have. 

You "escaped" because I wanted you to, not because of any "inner strength." See it. See how you've been broken again and again and made to like it. Doesn't it hurt so much? Isn't it awful? 

And it'll all happen again. You can't escape me. Suffering is eternal. 

Just give in. You're mine forever.

She wouldn't have. 

She would have become every inch as pathetic as that man on the street. 

She's not so different from him. 

Every single one of the people she looked down on was someone just like her.

It feels like a kick in the chest. Her breathing hitches. Her hands tremble. 

Oh, it's a joy to feel that searing pain.

He doesn't need her anymore, not after scarring Sunaria's high priestess with his marks. All she has to do is break and Good won't be able to adapt the designs enough to matter. More fools them if they try to distribute them outside Nidal. 

Not only that, it'll tear Kumi's heart out to have gotten so close and lost her. She's invested, now. Two birds with one stone.

She's pathetic. She's awful. She's participated in maiming others, breaking them so that they don't ever recover. She's carved designs into flesh over and over and over. All because she was too weak to stop it.

She breathes out hard, goes to her bag and pulls out her knife.

The pain will recenter her. Only pain is real.

I can't see her anymore - 

I can.

She bares her body again and starts to cut at her other thigh. 

She doesn't make a very good job of it. Her hands are unsteady. Her breath is catching in high rushy gasps.

Is she okay?

No. Zon-Kuthon has taught her that when she's "weak" she must be punished for it. 

But she's looking for control, and sacrificing her body for it, and so I can see her.

It's a dangerous situation. 

The pain helps her focus a little. It has an accord with the hurt inside her. It feels right. 

Ember sets the knife carefully aside. 

She doesn't want to cause permanent damage.

She doesn't.

If she's pathetic all along, then it doesn't matter. She'll break in the end. She's breaking already.

She might as well just curl up in bed and cry.

She leaves the knife on the floor, hobbles to the bed, and flops down into the covers. She pulls them tightly around herself, pressing them in hard against her skin.

She sheds tears. 

She stopped. She's seeking comfort.

I want you to suffer more. More and more and more. You can die when I've squeezed all the juice out of you and not before.

I want to see you break. I've been putting it off for a while. 

You're a heartless bastard.

You're cute when you get defensive. I can see you hurting, too. 

She'll suffer and die and be mine forever.

She cries, and stays in bed, and hides. Her blood stains the sheets. 

She hasn't bandaged herself. 

She'll bleed out eventually.

You'll miss her, won't you?

No, I won't. Because she's going to live.

And how do you suppose that'll happen?

Because my cleric is about to do a wellness check. 

You told her Ember self-harms.

Kumi knocks on Ember's door. 

"Ember?"

Ember will stab herself before she lets someone see her in this state.

Liar.

She doesn't want to die that badly. You taught her it was better to stay alive and suffer.

She can't school her voice still. 

"K-Kumi?"