She leaned forward, and her face was kind in a way that hurt to look at.
"He'll discard you too. They always do. It's what he is. It's what they all are."
"You don't know him."
"I know him better than you ever will."
Her hand reached across the table, and her fingers were cold, and she touched my face the way Gabriel used to.
"Run, Bunny. While you still can. Before he breaks you the way he broke me."
"I can't run."
"Then you'll die. Or worse. You'll become like me. A ghost. A memory. A warning to the next girl."
"What happened to you?"
"He threw me away. The way he'll throw you away. The way he throws all of us away."
Her face was shifting.
Blonde.
Brown.
Red.
Faces I didn't recognize.
Faces I did.
Rue.
The woman who'd said Gabriel was dead.
The woman I'd killed.
The woman I didn't remember killing.
"You're not real."
My voice was shaking.
"You're not real. None of this is real."
"Isn't it?"
Her face shifted again.
It was mine.
I was looking at myself.
Pale. Hollow-eyed. Hair tangled around my shoulders.
"He'll discard you too."
My voice, coming from someone else's mouth.
