She laughs and it’s a bright and brittle sound. “I am unsure of everything, except this…” she smiles, soft and gentle, up at her.

“And this is part of the reason why…” she murmurs softly, letting her fingertips stroke lightly against her cheek. “Because I know you believe that. You really do, and I think that’s really beautiful. You can see the way my hands are stained forever, and somehow…you aren’t scared of me…”

It’s a heavy one, her past, and she knows it asks so much of people just for knowing her truths. Being with her, knowing her, it is a risk all it’s own.