My entire life, I have been made to believe I am unlovable. That I am a cursed, hard-to-love creature undeserving of kindness, and Silas just…he makes it look so easy. “I tell you what I need to feel better, and you just fix it? A snap of your fingers? What if I said stabbing Regina with a fork would make me feel better, Hawthorne?” He steps closer to me, rubbing his thumb across the lines on my forehead. “You’re in control of a monster, Hex. Whatever you need, it’s already yours.” The scary part isn’t that he views himself as a monster. It’s that I believe him.
