But I stopped hating her in that living room, because I saw, at last, that she was not the villain of the house.

She was its longest-serving prisoner, and she had just, at twenty-five, decided, at last, to stop guarding her own cell.

Chapter 12 — You Have Nothing

Arthur came up out of his chair, and the reasonable mask was gone entirely now, replaced by the thing that had always been under it.

“You think you’re clever,” he said, taking a heavy step toward me.

“You have nothing.