Now that she’s scraped raw, now that she’s bared her soul to him, nothing remains but a feeble, stubborn anger. Anger that he dredged up her mother’s work. Anger that she was too much of a coward to trust him or face his compassion. Anger at herself because she can’t hold her feelings back anymore. With everything crumbling around her, how can she maintain her walls? She doesn’t want them anymore. She doesn’t want to be alone.
