It's a plain fact that all humans have needs and desires.

Caroline hated having those desires, hated having those moments where the only thing she sought…was release.

To her, the most asinine belief her Catholic upbringing taught was that masturbations was a mortal sin. She wasn't going to wait her sensations out, nor would she ever bring herself relief by way of participating in a one-night stand; she was too emotionally tied to Cave for that. Always had been. In fact, on those sickening nights when she was alone and twisted up in her lavender sheets, Cave Johnson was the mental recipient of her self-fulfilled desires, the only person whose name was hissed as she hit her peak.

For whatever reason, however, Caroline always felt this sad sense of emptiness and being unfulfilled after she finished. Oh, it was wonderful in the glorious moment of climax, but it lacked an afterglow. Bliss begot tears, as it were, and she always felt worse after finishing than she had before she even started. In that moment, the weight of her sins felt great, but the ache of loneliness served as punishment enough.