"It is." She responds, slowly turning around and looking quite serious; her eyes have hardened, a bit. "But it doesn't mean it's the right one."
It isn't something he wants to hear. Beatrices knows this, but he has to hear it. Give it some thought. Relate it to his own situation.
"There was a little girl I knew once. Her name was Maria. She and I became very close---because she needed a friend, even though no one else could see me but her. Before I came here, I couldn't exist as I do now. Only people who believed in my existence could. Maria was one of those people. We played, told each other stories, had tea parties together...but her happiness was only temporary."
She inhales a bit, and there's a pause, before she continues. "Because all the while, her mother was abusing her. She struck her, beat her, insulted her, all for foolish and trivial things. Yet Maria never stopped loving her. She never stopped calling her "Mama." She would tell me about it. I would listen---and yet I could do nothing." Beatrice's voice becomes a hiss. "I watched that woman break that poor girl apart and abandon her only to come running back, apologizing like a fool. A foolish game of tug-of-war using Maria's emotions as the rope!"
Looking at Matsuka finally---she'd been looking out the window---Beatrice asks, "which is what is happening to you, even though your master doesn't put on the illusion of caring about you."
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It isn't something he wants to hear. Beatrices knows this, but he has to hear it. Give it some thought. Relate it to his own situation.
"There was a little girl I knew once. Her name was Maria. She and I became very close---because she needed a friend, even though no one else could see me but her. Before I came here, I couldn't exist as I do now. Only people who believed in my existence could. Maria was one of those people. We played, told each other stories, had tea parties together...but her happiness was only temporary."
She inhales a bit, and there's a pause, before she continues. "Because all the while, her mother was abusing her. She struck her, beat her, insulted her, all for foolish and trivial things. Yet Maria never stopped loving her. She never stopped calling her "Mama." She would tell me about it. I would listen---and yet I could do nothing." Beatrice's voice becomes a hiss. "I watched that woman break that poor girl apart and abandon her only to come running back, apologizing like a fool. A foolish game of tug-of-war using Maria's emotions as the rope!"
Looking at Matsuka finally---she'd been looking out the window---Beatrice asks, "which is what is happening to you, even though your master doesn't put on the illusion of caring about you."