“What if I’m just like him?” She answers with absolute conviction. “You’re not.” Misery crawls up my spine. “I have his temper, I know I do. I wanted to strangle him tonight.” I press my lips together. “It took all my willpower not to throw him into a wall and beat him to death. But it wasn’t fucking worth it. He’s not worth it.” She reaches for my hand and laces her fingers through mine. “And that’s why you’re not like him. You have that willpower, and that means you don’t have his temper. Because he can’t control his. He lets the anger fuel him, drive him to hurt the people around him,
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