At first all she can manage is to shake her head, unable to do or be anything but a crying mess on the floor until she hears the windows begin to rattle again. God. She has to stop. She can't. She must.

"M-muh..." Vanya's voice stutters, almost ribbiting as she gulps down air and orders it to stay. Forces the words to come out in a semi-coherent string instead of falling apart like everything else. Shit, her eyes are aching now to join the rest of her. "My vio-" Another hiccup. "-lin. I l-left it. At his house."

And a sudden, violent revulsion has her tasting bile in the back of her mouth. The thought of Leonard even touching her bowstrings, the fingers she'd let touch her, that she'd wanted to touch her, is enough to make her want to vomit for the rest of the year and then some. But the thought of going back is just as impossible, too tangled in panic and disgust and shame to even consider.