Swiftcurrent Creek Pick you up, let you down

She'd expected him to ask, but she hesitates, even knowing her name holds no meaning here. All that she is hiding from has been left far behind — yet she still fears it, somewhere deep inside herself. She still recalls vividly that horrible night: blood and fear and losing the only wolf who'd ever seen the most rotten parts of her soul and still truly loved her. It isn't the idea of following Rosalie into death that terrifies her; it is the thought of seeing their faces again, should they ever find her.
But they can't find her here — she has to tell herself that. There are more pressing things to deal with, now. It's um... my name is Alessia, She murmurs, resisting the urge to shudder as the name slips from her tongue. She can't recall when she'd last spoken it, or heard it from another. Perhaps Alessia is dead now, crushed by her life as Myrren, her mistakes. Perhaps she's changed forever. She falls silent, suddenly wishing she'd saved this conversation for another time and kept to herself today; she doesn't know how much more of this she can handle before she... — ah, she'll be fine. She always has been.