She scoffs incredulously. "You think anyone would be okay after that shit? Are you?" She stares at Connie, but she's not asking her to leave. "Like, what kind of answer are you expecting? No, I'm not okay. I'm tired as fuck, I feel like I'm going to hurl, and I just know if I try to sleep I'm going to have nightmares for the forseeable future. Tell me where to get the Vicodin and then I'll be okay."