[shampoo in her hands, she begins washing Andy's hair, hands slow, fingertips massaging the scalp. shhh. shhh. it's okay, isn't it? if Andy is looking in a mirror, Emily will bring it closer, so she won't darken the image there. it's the life she chose. it's the duty she's bound to. it will never match to the blood she had to clean up, seemingly endless.

Andy cannot know. no one can. not even the people she loves so dearly. they know her crime, but not how it gnaws at her soul so constantly. and it makes her wonder, how honest all of this is. is this her heart, or her compulsion? she'd like to think it comes from somewhere honest, somewhere deeper, because...]

...I always wanted to be a doctor. Even when I was young, even when I couldn't bring all my books with me every time we moved. I said I'd study hard, and I'd be able to help anyone that needed it - they wouldn't have to suffer, as long as I could intervene. So I went and did it. I fought my way through school on my academics, did everything right, gave up what wasn't needed and swore that oath, promised my life. Because it was a dream, because it's what never wavered. It was that certain wanting, the fact that I had something to give.

I do what I do because I still have more to give. Because I want to, Andy.

[because she has to. because there is nothing else, because if you made her be still she'd have no choice but to weep. because in what she gives to others, there is fulfillment, joy, peace. there is no room for selfish behavior. she wants this.]

Do you do what you do because you want to?