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It was better to buoy her with lies than drown her in a truth that would crush her.
She didn’t know why, but the old her, the young woman named Echo who had escaped so many years ago, hummed in her chest like a hive of bees about to be punched.
She was a survivor, but sometimes she wondered at what point a person stops surviving and starts imploding.
She knew what it was like to be cornered, to make a quick decision and change the course of your life in an instant. Sometimes it worked out, like when she’d met Viv, and sometimes it was like crawling on your hands and knees through broken glass.
Dayton looked like a glass vase perched on the edge of a table, waiting for the slightest brush to knock him over.
