"I died again," she tells him, matter-of-factly. "I felt it this time."

The first time, the real(?) time, it happened so quick. Headlights coming towards her, then black. Fuzzy, pain-blurred pictures of recovery came after, for a long while. Nothing of dying. Nothing of being dead. This time she felt the pain, the overwhelming terror, the panic. The blood leaving her body through a torn-away hole. This time, she knew she was dying. And it took a long, long time.

If it's possible for her dark eyes to look more hollow, that'd be what William sees in Grace right now. And it'd be why she now uses the bathroom in the dark-- so she doesn't have to see whatever the mirror would show her. Her head tilts slightly to the side.

"You think that was helpful." It's not a question. More an accusation.