[Claire nods. She'd seen a number of horrendous things done to a body in her time, experienced bodily trauma of her own, but so often when she closes her eyes she can still imagine her skin sliding off like a glove. She wasn't able to do a thing for herself, for Jamie, or anyone else in that room.]

Partaking in something stronger than tea. [Alcohol, she means. Just to help her sleep and to soothe her nerves.]

I haven't been able to walk down the street without feeling like I'm going to be grabbed again.