His accusations hurt because she knew how true they really were, and despite all her attempts to hide her emotion, Kat was a puppet to her pain. Had it hurt this badly for him, when she had mocked Zion's death? Had his heart burned in this way, numb and charred, when she had spoken aloud all the nameless horrors he still tried to hide from his own soul? Kat didn't know, and she did not have the capacity to care, either. It didn't matter. Nothing matters, she was forced to remind herself, except for Mode.But Mode was gone. Had she taken his life too?
Ryan tugged her into nullo, and she did not resist. He rolled up the sleeve of her jacket, eyes tracing the scar that ran along her wrist, and she did not pull away. Then he released her, and she hung motionless in the air, watching him until he spoke again. "I'd always wondered how the hell you could live with yourself, day in and day out. Now I know the answer."
But did he, really? Kat didn't even know how she could live with herself. Knowing that someday she would find Mode was not so much a consolation anymore than a far-away hope, and she did not even have her hate to fuel her life. Maybe it was some inner strength. Maybe it was desperation. She didn't want to know.
"Then you're the lucky one," she said bitterly, green eyes cold. "I still don't have the answer."
