I killed a woman. J'ai tué une femme. Je suis desolée. Oh, je suis desolée. Why? I...I... I wasn't thinking. Je ne pensais pas.
Grand-mère, I do not think I can do this. I do not think I am made for this. I'm scared, grand-mère. Why? Pourquoi moi? Why was I chosen for this? How can La Chanson be so beautiful, mais...how can I have power like this from something so beautiful?
She had thoughts and feelings and fears. She had wants and needs. Did she have children? A wife? Husband? How many lives did I destroy because I didn't think?
And how many more did the rest of the group destroy?
Why isn't this une problème pour eux? Why aren't they sad, or...
Has La Chanson accepted this? Is this the right thing to do? It can't be. I do not think it can be.
I do not want this power. I do not want to use it. I do not want it anywhere near me.
But it is inside me. And it is inside my head and it sounds so beautiful.
I want to hate it. I want to hate it for making me feel this way, but then it starts again and oh.
Je me sens calme.