So Joan is pushed back by some kid-- no, he's not a baby, he's just got big eyes. Big, sad eyes that remind her of Newports and summer rain. In a moment, she hates him, but the flash of rage falls to the side when she registers that he's trying to save her; the loathing curls inward, internal.

The calf-eyed man, who's now seen her naked in the dirt, peels back her eyeless attacker. Joan knows a good turn when she sees one, and slithers out from underneath the body atop her. "He's a fucking monster."

It's not her fault. None of this is her fault.