“How dare you rearrange my feelings into something that makes you feel better about walking away. How dare you talk to me like I’m a child—like I’m a lost, pathetic little girl who doesn’t have the mental capacity to know what she wants. How dare you make me feel these things and then twist them into something dirty. You made me finally feel something, Reed, something other than this godforsaken pit of worthlessness and loneliness, and now you’re—”
