[Now she understands. She is poisoned. Hannibal has poisoned her. In a way, this offends her; her brows draw together in consternation, and she shifts her weight, thinking, thinking. It's not wrong, but neither is it right. She loves - she hates - but if she was poisoned then it's poison she deserved, or poison she had no choice but to swallow. Poison she put into her own mouth.]
[Still, it's good, thinking of it like this. Thinking of it like something that can advance without placing her at fault. She reels at Ben a little, the way he talks, the gestures he makes, the curious credit he's willing to give her that Hannibal never did. That her father never did.]
[Ben is not her father. Ben is her warden. Ben is her friend. She loves him. She shouldn't feel conflicted about this at all.]
[She feels very conflicted.]
I believe you. [She thinks she must have said this already.] I believe . . .
no subject
[Still, it's good, thinking of it like this. Thinking of it like something that can advance without placing her at fault. She reels at Ben a little, the way he talks, the gestures he makes, the curious credit he's willing to give her that Hannibal never did. That her father never did.]
[Ben is not her father. Ben is her warden. Ben is her friend. She loves him. She shouldn't feel conflicted about this at all.]
[She feels very conflicted.]
I believe you. [She thinks she must have said this already.] I believe . . .
I believe it'll take a lot of time.