He raised his hand, hesitant, conflict raging in his eyes, and then swiftly brushed the length of my cheekbone with his fingertips. His skin was as icy as ever, but the trail his fingers left on my skin was alarmingly warm - like I'd been burned, but didn't feel the pain of it yet.

You held out your hand, and I took it without stopping to make sense of what I was doing. For the first time in almost a century, I felt hope.

No point in ignoring the truth. Doesn't make it worse to have it said out loud.

I didn't want to be the monster! I didn't want to kill this room full of harmless children! I didn't want to lose everything I'd gained in a lifetime of sacrifice and denial!

I tried to be diplomatic, but mostly I just lied a lot.

You really should stay away from me.

I was ninety-nine point nine percent sure that I was dreaming.