Kate snorts a joyless laugh at that first reason. She's a big girl, she can handle herself and whether or not she gets hurt doing it is a choice she makes herself. Why everybody keeps trying to take Kate's autonomy is a mystery to her and it only serves to irritate her. But the rest of the list makes more than enough sense to her. She's done things to prove she could do it and did it anyway so no one could stop her. Captain America and Iron Man can attest to that.

As Kate pushes herself up from the doorway, it looks for a moment as if she's going to sit down next to Steph, but she walks past to stare out the window where faint snowflakes are falling outside. It's easier to admit things when you don't have to watch people's body language. "I was raped. My mother was murdered." The words come out cold, like there are no feelings behind them, but it's all an act. It helps Kate not break down into a heap of sobs on Steph's carpet, heart and soul still broken. It helps her believe that she's strong enough to never ever give into that recurring nightmare where she runs into her rapist and tortures him until he feels the pain she did. Or the urge that's there as well.

"I can't do what they did. I can't stoop to their level. I refuse to be like the man who took my mother away, the man who took my life away. Doing what they did, are capable of doing, makes me no better than them."