Ilde was going to die that day, one way or the other; she knows, she is sure, that the right thing to do was go out her way. That she could at least take that victory away from him. She's still dead, but it's her choice - Kelly's, and hers - and not his, and seriously, fuck that guy.

This is what runs through her mind as she rests her hands and weight on the toilet seat, letting herself steady before she says anything. "I've got it," she says, vaguely, possibly meaning composure and probably being wrong about that. There's not much in her stomach, though, and she spits out the taste of bile before she straightens. Water. Maybe mouthwash--

...or hugs, first, Cindy just cope.