“Never trust a survivor until you know what they did to survive.”

I whisper the words to him, too late to change anything.

His eyes, wide with pain, shock, and terror, latch onto mine. “Rey,” he chokes, “why . . ?”

“That’s not my name. I’m sorry, Blake. I tried to warn you to stay away from me.”

“I know who you are, Elisabeth.” His voice is a whisper. “I stayed anyway. I hoped . . . I wanted to show you that it was possible to change, that you could . . .”

He trails off.

“I’m sorry, Blake,” I say over my shoulder as I leave him. “I guess I really am a monster.”

I don’t look back.