[She jerks her arm back the moment he touches her, the motion not skittish, but decisive. Enough so that she doesn't bother to verbalise it: he's not allowed to do that.]
No. You think. [He had it right the first time; that was her point. He can't possibly know if she'll hurt him or not. She can't possibly know that, either. At his next words, she shakes her head. He really doesn't understand. She could try to describe how many times she's come close to losing control, how she doesn't know what she's doing at all, how this is anything but control... but it's been years since she's talked about herself that way with anyone. The words get stuck before she can speak them.
But maybe she can demonstrate.] Did you bring a weapon out here?