She doesn't believe in accidents. She's merely a venue, a vessel, someone to speak through. All things are willed, fated, destined. Even when there are choices to be made.
She can accept this in her art, but in her life? In her heart? How, when the pain is so great, the cost so high? Who could expect her to trust in the universe's plan after a tragedy like that? No one. No one can make that demand. Just like no one is there to hold her hand.
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