Wrong-wrong. Her face twisted all wrong flashes again in her mind. But fear is a bitter thing that Jo Harvelle is brutal with. She's been proving herself better, stronger, faster, and more able to handle anything thrown at her, as long as she could, while being judged against perfection and always found wanting. Small. Unskilled. Insane. Suicidal.

Jo's back teeth grit, but she hasn't reached out for it yet. Is she going crazy?
Did something happen? Did she hit her head? Did someone slip her something?

"My face was all torn up." Which it isn't. Jo's an intimate of pain as much as fear, and she isn't hurting. Not anywhere. "I know it isn't. But it was. In the reflection. All torn up and open."