They stick with her, Snow's words.
She doesn't care about Henry.
She doesn't care about you.
Listen to me.
Choose the right side – the side of good.
She wonders if someday she'll be free from this torture – these voices, they shatter her mind, light and darkness, Henry in the middle.
She releases the dart, towards where she knows it'll hurt Snow more.
"What would you know about mothers?"
Your mother is dead.
I've never been your mother, no matter how hard you tried to force me.
You have never been a mother to your daughter.
What would you know, Snow?