Kainé listens. She hates feeling as though this woman is trying to save her, but she hates being this scared and insecure even more. Her existence, her memories, the similarities to her own story all rattle her. But what unnerves her more is how this moment reminds her of another— not a memory, just the barest glimpse of familiarity, a familiar itchiness she's felt inside her mind for the past few years.

Anna's story is not her own, but Kainé understands enough of it. And A2's story as well. Bodies and minds altered, futile struggles, loved ones ripped away. No wonder they stuck that poor bitch with her memories, of all people.

"So she's just... gone?" Against her attempts at stoicism, that feels terribly sad. But fitting, if A2 had that much in common with her. She can't let more sadness in, there's too much already, but there's an inherent pathos in the story that threatens to crawl into her heart and give her a new thing to mourn.