Her lip curls, the words remind her of home, of Durban and her heavy backhand. Her jaw had still been purple--(she had still be alive)--when she had met Barbet. She was never one of Durban's dolls, she never will be.

"No," she rumbles darkly. "I am not."

Only for Barbet, because he treated her like a human--(except when he thought of her as a corpse and pushed her away, and it stung every time he did.)