You're lying. The words are blurry around her tears, and Vanya can't blink them away fast enough. That's not fair - she wants to snap at Allison for it, tell her that less than a week of acting like they're actually sisters doesn't give her the right to call Vanya on her bullshit. The guilt that surges in immediately makes her nauseous: how can she be angry, how can she even think one iota of that?

(It's because she's a monster, that's why Luther put her in the cell, that's why all of them attacked her at--

No. She doesn't want to go there.)

Swiping a hand over her face, Vanya stares between Allison and Diego, and it's probably the longest span she's been able to look at him straight on. It doesn't last: her back bone is about as malleable as everything else about her.

"I'm - not," she chokes out, and tells herself it's true. If she believes it - and she does, she's starting to, a little, please don't make her relieve any of it - then they will, too.

She wishes, not for the first time and fervently, that she had Allison's power.