Her hand comes to my face, stroking my chin. “They are people. I’m sure some have deserved it, but not all. You must feel something when you end a person’s life. They have families. Friends. People who love them, who will be devastated by having them gone.”
And here we are. The moment I’ve been dreading. I could say that it bothers me, or that I think about the people I kill, but it wouldn’t be the truth. Friendship. Family. Those are just words for me that bear no meaning, like a foreign language I can hear but cannot comprehend.
“I don’t know, cub,” I say, then decide to risk it all and be honest. Even if it means she might not want to have anything to do with me afterward. “And I don’t care.”
She watches me in silence for a few moments, but, unlike I expected, there’s no disgust in h
