[A hum is his only response at first. A hand fidgets, slightly, a second signet ring not marked with a rose sitting on the opposite hand of that claimed by Father, the band catching against the handle of the pitcher as he exhales, finding an empty place to settle it within arm's reach.]

Yes, she was. Torn apart to the atom and not allowed to die. And I would not wish to see it happen again.

I don't need to be beside myself to still feel the cruelty for exactly what it is.