Miho: DisfiguredEven now I’m not sure why I wasn’t angrier at them. When Taka told me they’d pried, ferreted out my past behind my back, I’d had a flash of anger. But then he’d wrapped his arms around me, and I realized the anger had already melted away, replaced with a mix of relief and dread. Now they knew, I didn’t have to tell them, but at the same time, I dreaded their knowing. It wasn’t like I thought the story was secret; anyone could find it in the news. But I hated when they did because it was always the same. People changed once they knew, acting as if I were a porcelain doll left shattered by the accident and barely glued back together by a bunch of shrinks.
Taka and Shinji were acting normal, but it wouldn’t stay that way. And what they wanted from me, what they were practical
