"No- " the quiet woman began. Her face looked fifty, not thirty, her eyes tired, sunken. She prevented her hands shaking by gripping her thighs.
"I swear, I wouldn't- "
Maya tried to smile at her, but the woman's fear was causing Maya's own stomach to churn, and she couldn't. Hidden memories that Maya knew weren't her own flashed through her mind: Hunger, Pain, Fear, Loss, they all had eyes. Different coloured eyes, different shaped eyes, but they had all seen the uniforms and the rifles, the barbed wire, the perversity and the corpses.
"Hush, love," Maya managed. "We know."