Page 83 of Molt

“Yes.”

“Say you hate me.”

I stare at her.

“Say it.”

“I hate you.”

Her mouth trembles. “Again.”

“I hate you.”

“Mean it.”

“I hate you.”

She begins sobbing.

I cross the distance before she can stop me.

Her knife falls.

I grab her.

She hits me. Hard.

Again.

Fists against my chest. “You fucking liar!”

“I know.”

“I hate you.”

“I know.”

“I hate you!”

“I know.”

Then she kisses me.

Blood and tears.

Cold lips. Desperation.

We fall into the snow. And even inside the memory, I already know how this ends. I remember everything now.

Not all at once. In fractures. Pieces. Violent little flashes.

The first time Lenora tried to kill herself to save me. The first time I stopped her. The first time I learned that stopping her only made everything worse.

The memory changes.

1908 A hotel room in London.

Different Lenora. Different name.