I respond, thoughts dropping away, like pebbles plopping one by one in water, sinking down, down into dark oblivion.

My imprint is there for the world to see. I don't try to hide it with my hair or a high collar. When I got ready for school this morning, I kept thinking of Sean. How proud he appears. Unapologetic. And I want to be like that. I don't want to look cowed or ashamed. I may not want to be this, but I don't want to be that girl, either. I don't want to be afraid.

Ironic, huh? To keep that part of me alive, I have to be close to that which kills it.

What good is safety if you're dead inside?

After running for my life from hunters, a girl with too much lip gloss doesn't register on my fear radar.

Because I know what it feels like to be used, valued only for what you can do... not who you are, not who you want to be.

I am what everyone always thought. A killer.