Her instinct is to recoil when he moves, at first, and even as it becomes clear he's not coming at her she shrinks back from the expression of compassion like she doesn't know what to do with it.

"H-He didn't—" She takes a deep breath, steadies her voice. The South in the memory keeps sobbing and it makes her shudder, uncomfortable. "He didn't even flip out. That's almost the worst fucking part. I just— I knew, I knew the second he reacted the way he did back there. It's something he does, he bottles things and... and I just knew."

He was right not to forgive her. She hurt him, she betrayed him, she let him down in a way that it's impossible to come back from in any way that amounts to forgiveness.

"I'm not letting them have anything. I'm trying, Washington, I'm trying, but it doesn't seem to make a damn fucking difference no matter how hard I try. No matter what I do, who I try to be, who I am keeps coming back to bite me."

She hardly knows who she is anymore and it's killing her, inside. She's already changing, there's no stopping it now, but it leaves her on a crumbling foundation, one wrong move from collapsing.