"You're quite observant," she responded boredly, uncertain what he was hoping to accomplish by reminding her of the reality she lived with every day, as if she'd already forgotten. "But you're giving yourself far too much credit, you're not the sole or even main proprietor of my misfortunes. So you burned a few pointless paintings of a trapped and lonely child that no longer exists, did you really expect me to cry? After everything else that has happened to me, you really think something so petty would cause me to crack? Ripping my life apart, indeed. I've done more damage to myself than you could ever hope to do, and that's not an attempt at boasting, it's a fact."
Hands on her hips and taking a moment to catch her breathe, Mabelle stared Michel down as effectively as somebody who was at least a foot shorter could manage. "I would never claim myself an optimist- I have no delusions that things will get better for me. I have no hopes for a future of my own, for a new family or a new life. You're right, I have nothing left, which means I have nothing to lose, and knowing that is what keeps me going. It's why I don't have to fall asleep afraid at night. So go ahead, teach me all about grief. And open that damn package so I can leave."