[She turns to meet Tosh's eyes, her own gaze somber and steady.]

I did.

I tortured my baby sister, in my world. She was fourteen. She was the only person who had tried to be kind to me in years. I was the closest thing to a functional parent she ever had. I hurt her and then I killed her.

[It's not bland, it's not flat, but it's not terribly emotional either. It's a solemn, if partial, recital of charges. She's making something like an offering of it. Everyone knows Tosh's guilt; Anya gives a little of her own in return. And by certain harsh standards of justice - an eye for an eye, torture for torture - yes, she deserves it. It's a brutal system, but fundamentally a fair one.]