"What I can have," she repeated slowly, "I guess that would be nice since I'll never have what I want. My father won't be coming home with me. He won't get to hold his granddaughter. I won't get the Caitlin I remember - the one who was vivacious and ready to set the world on fire, back. Instead I'll go back to the one who sleeps most of the day and hasn't gone back to school. Hasn't done much of anything really. I'm never going to have a truly happy birthday again," she says her voice almost breaking.

"Did you know that, Jack. September 20th? The day you murdered my father," she spat the words out, "That was my birthday. Happy fuckin' birthday to me, huh."