She is naive.
I tell her this as I tower over her, as I tell her how hopeless it is, how she can't help us, can't save us, can't free us.
She is naive.
Her voice is a whisper as she tells me that, even if I am right, even if it is useless, she has to try. She will try and try and try until she can't anymore, until she is broken and useless to all their plans.
She is naive.
Her eyes fill with tears, but she reaches out to me.
She is naive.
We cannot be saved.
