"It works both ways." She said, shaking her hair a little more violently, pulling on the ends. If they stayed there, they might crawl in through the roots and make her want things she didn't. "They don't leave. I can hide them, or cover my eyes, but they'll always be there. Waiting."
The voices were back, with their long fingers and longer needles. They were pricking her, poking her, breeching her hull; no soft lead in their bullets, only sterile steel and mean little instruments that snuck inside you, hurting more than memories--punching you in the midbrain and leaving you reeling to the chair they tied you to.
You can trust us, River. Trust had fooled her into the Academy.
"Never trust a stranger. Stranger than fiction. This is all fiction, they're writing it because they want to show," Rivers fingers curled into her scalp, then dragged sideways a little through the air when she jerked her hand, trying to emphasize her point. "They want to show everyone how clever they are; throwing me around like a gorram doll, tell me where my strings are and how to pull them."