While there is no outward reaction to having a wrist ripped open, something else is going on inside of Ella's head. While she's well protected in her memories, which strangely enough, seem to be going backwards, the awareness that she's dying becomes manifest; for someone who was already in the brink of it already, noticing a different kind of death feels bizarre, but she can tell there is a different contrast to it. This is a quieter death.

So on the inside, she's but a little girl know, hair wild and down to her waist as she runs through a hill of lush grass under the sun, her perfect little white dress ruined as her father shouts at her at the distance.

On the outside, Ella is barely getting any paler, as she didn't have much color on herself to begin with.