I know. I hate him. If I could I'd— I wish I was hurting him. And I hate the thought of anyone getting hurt the way I want to hurt him.

( Her voice is quiet and rough, and her head feels heavy and painful. Sarissa sniffs, wipes her nose with the back of her hand, and flops sideways onto the bed, curling inward, back still to Sarah. )

You're better than him. Better than hurting people.