“I hate red and I hate my heartbeat and I hate being this. Their soldier. Their God. I must steal color back from an eye that paints the world vile, steal my thoughts back from the hum, that damn hum, because … because I refuse to end like this.” Her voice is choked, nearly a whisper, and though she’s crying, there’s a fury pushing her words forward. And it is bottomless. “I will not die in a Windup. I will not die following their orders, and I will not die as their protector. I will die human or I will not die at all.”
