“You shouldn’t be here,” my therapist, Gabriel Brooks, admonishes gently. “What are you doing, Quinn? Didn’t I tell you to be a good girl and let me take care of this?” “You killed them,” I whisper, finally noticing the blood on his face and his white tee that stands out sharply against the rest of him. “You killed them,” I say again, making the words more real. He tilts his head to the side, studying my face. “I killed them,” he agrees. “Because he hurt you. Why would I ever let that go?”
