Sunbeam Lair vicariously I live while the whole world dies

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You... don't? 
And there's genuine surprise in that, a suspicious squint as she looks up to him. Laughter, again, a bundle of nerves this time. 
In that statement was years worth of ideas that had been shoved so far down her throat she choked if she tried to spit them out. Words on young ears, far too young to understand; and words that became harsher when she started to. And so, in a moment of weakness brought on by a late night that would later turn into a burning memory, she repeats to Akavir what she had been taught. 
That she was her father's daughter, and that was enough reason for her to be punished. A daughter, who should have been a son but wasn't quite. A daughter, who had inherited the shape of her father's teeth and his large shoulders, the inflection of his laughter, his brawn and his temper and his misery. A daughter who was not good enough for the purpose of giving him grandsons in the way her sister was. A daughter who spoke too loud and too often, who tried to save her mother from those same claws that struck her. A daughter who deserved a fate worse than death, and at least her mother had been granted that mercy. 
She tells him everything, everything, everything; the story behind every scar that lines her legs and her hips and her neck. She tells him of the lullabies of her mother that drowned out the drunken screams, the trembling of her sister's shoulders on late nights and the fear in her eyes the last Wren saw her. The many paths of escape that were planned that never worked until it was much too late. 
She tells him how personal Lilitu's situation is to her, too; how she was not all that unlike her once, and how badly she wished that one day her real father would come to save her and how he never did.
And by the end of it, she is breathless, and she says to him: Does that answer your question?