[She doesn't answer right away. She looks at the screen examines his body language, his expression, his tone. She looks at his public responses. She decides, finally, that the question is sincere; that he's not simple looking for things to mock or to use.

So she answers with a gesture, hand sweeping down.]

My legs. Or the way I lost them, anyway.

[She could say it was her first parents, or Jason, or Sarah - and in some ways, it would still be true. But for all she suffered, for all the grief and anger and helplessness, she didn't feel like she was nothing.]

I couldn't undo what had happened. I needed to find another purpose. I needed to find ways to feel like I was more than a victim, or a tool. [To prove a point.]

So I did.