When she drops to her knees, she does more than cry. She screams, wails, sobs, anything to fight back. She doesn’t know giving up, and even as everything she feels leaves her violently, she thinks this is not giving up.
She hasn’t ‘lost it,’ she’s just reached her boiling point and this is the steam that’s the result. This was the option she had; this is what keeps her wheels turning and the cogs spinning. The weak keep quiet, she thinks, the weak let the inner turmoil rage inside to the point of endless, silent destruction.
So this, screaming and crying and bleeding her heart out, this is not giving up. This is the fight that she will win. This is the fight that will never eradicate her.