“The way you acted when you saw me last night…” he begins. I can feel his eyes on me, but I refuse to look at him. “The way you screamed… Tessa, I’ve never felt pain like that—” “Stop it,” I snap. My voice doesn’t sound like my voice, and I begin to wonder if I’m even awake right now, or if this is another nightmare. “I just want to know that you’re not afraid of me. You aren’t, are you?” “This isn’t about you,” I manage. And it’s true, absolutely true. He’s tried to make this about him—his pain—but this is about my father’s death and that I can’t take any more heartache.
Go you. Kill him.
