She served a cruel, cruel Master.
Several times a day, and several times every night she had to make blood sacrifice to the Machine, piercing her own flesh.
It haunted her with its endless demands, rules and expectations. She could go nowhere without it, do nothing without consulting it. There was no day off.
Often the sacrifices alone were not enough to keep the Master at peace: She accepted the cold spindle into her body more often than she cared to think about.
When she died, she bled to death from a hundred thousand blood sugar checks and insulin shots.