The uncertainty of how her life was going to play out was threatening to drive her mad. If she went back, she knew that every moment of her day for as long as she lived would be planned out in advance. She would have little say in what happened to her if she did. Each day would be shockingly like the last with only bursts of inevitable violence sprinkled throughout the passing weeks. Was almost constant misery worth the peace of mind that knowing her future would bring?