No matter how hard he tried to fix me, I was still a broken, violent thing. I’d realized as we fought that I was never going to change. I had spent eons surviving alone, being brutal in a brutal world. He required a pure, safe love, and all I could offer was a vengeful inferno of it. Nothing soft or delicate, my love cut, but I refused to make him bleed for me any longer. That was not a healthy love. Even I knew that.
