“Have you ever pulled off a bandage, accidentally glued your fingers together and had to pull them apart, or waxed something? The list goes on and on. Multiply that by a million. That’s what it felt like. I was causing the pain by peeling away my skin. Every tiny bit I removed was freeing me. I was on autopilot, forcing myself beyond the agony to my goal. There had to be something good beneath my rotten exterior. I removed layers, tirelessly, trying to find that gold.

“But it wasn’t there. In the end, there was nothing left. I was gone. By the time they made their decision, the only thing remaining was the pieces of my deteriorated form spread out where I used to be. Skin strips splayed out for their viewing pleasure.

“Ethan…” Her lip quivers. “He was the only one to ever give any indication he cared. Of course, he was first. I-I coated him. A candy shell that held him in place while I…digested him. Thomas was second. I was more conscious for that, though I still didn’t know what I was doing until I took my father’s life. Just as I’d killed my mother in my birth, I killed the rest of my family in my rebirth.”

I grimace.

She circles back to the beginning of our conversation. “Every would-be-Solathair before you failed at what you’ve accomplished. We all murdered our mothers,” she needlessly reminds me. “Except you. You still have yours. How things turned out would’ve been different if mine had lived.”

I sigh.

“You’ve spent your entire life trying to avoid connection as if it’s a contaminant. All I ever wanted was for someone to offer me contact, and when they finally did, it killed them. I killed them.”

“It wasn’t your fault,” I whisper.

“I know that now, but it didn’t have to end that way for them...or me.”

It doesn’t have to be that way for her anymore. What she overcame was an unfortunate side effect of her life-altering transition, but her new life has opened up the possibility for everything she couldn’t have before. “You can have all that now. You just need to let go of the past. Be a better version of you. Move on. Barry—”

“Think what you want,” she cuts me off. “I’m shallow. I’m okay with that. It’s all I have. I’m not willing to consider the alternative. I know what people are like, even those closest to you…especially those closest to you. This is all I have, and I’m not letting it go. Not for anything. Not for anyone.”

“You should talk to Barry. Let him show you the beauty inside you. If anyone can bring out that gold, it’s him.”

She laughs darkly. “He knows all about me.”

“If you’d give him a chance. Let him really get to know you.”

“What part of he knows are you choosing to ignore?” Her tone is irritated.

Mel said Tally’s story was hers to tell. The only thing she willingly shared was they—her, Derry, Kiley, and Barry—tried to stop them. Obviously, they were trying to keep Tally’s family from going in that cellar to inflict whatever punishment they saw fit for the incident with the man on the street. “Is that why you’re so mad? Because they couldn’t stop them from going in?”

Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit.

“They sent them in to die,” she fumes, anger washing away her regret. “I was transitioning, yet they sent them to me.”

“You’re assuming their intentions. From my perspective, they were trying to prevent it, not provoke it.”

“Barry told me,” she admits. “He said they tried explaining what was happening to me, but my family wouldn’t listen.”

“See, they care. They tried to help. How is it their fault your family didn’t listen?”

“They could have done a million things! Tied them up, taken me away, killed them themselves, so I wouldn’t be the one to end their miserable lives!”

I frown. “You wouldn’t have wanted the latter.”

“No?” She widens her eyes. “They cared nothing for me. My whole life, that’s all I wanted, for them to care. For someone to care. They never did. Not them. Definitely not the Sumairs. Ryan and Declan try to…” Her rant starts petering out. “You don’t…” She lets out a strangled groan.

“While I can’t even start unpacking all that, I care about you, Tally. Ryan and Declan absolutely do. I can’t answer for all the Sumairs, but Barry…” I clench my fists at my sides and try to maintain my patience with her. The protective flame she’s invoking is making it increasingly difficult. “Look, if the Sumairs didn’t care, they wouldn’t have been there in the first place. They wouldn’t have interfered. They were there because they care.”

“They weren’t coming to save me,” she seethes. “They were coming to end me.”

I wish for words of wisdom like Ryan would offer her. I can’t find any. Tally has so much mistrust inside her she can’t overcome it. She’s spent three hundred years masking her hurt with superficiality. Chiseling through her candy coating won’t be easy when it’s the only thing holding her together.

Despite her snarky fortifications, she’s a decent person, but she won’t let that person out willingly. She won’t give anyone the chance to hurt her that deeply again. She’s exerted so much effort warding off connective attempts, she might never openly accept things could improve.

Conversely, I’ve spent my life in self-imposed isolation, trying to protect the people around me. Tally’s done the same. Only, she’s done it to protect herself from the people around her. We’re similar and dissimilar in substantial ways. Problematically opposite.

“You were wrong,” I claim, earning myself a huff.

“Rarely am I wrong.”

“I wasn’t the one hiding.”

“Puh-lease.” She rolls her eyes. “You’ve spent so much time trying to be invisible your invisiblenater got jammed.”

“I’ll give you that, but I wasn’t the only one hiding.”

She scoffs. “Head cheerleader. Tons of friends. Queen Bee. That’d be me, in case you’ve forgotten.”

“What safer place to hide than in plain sight?” I shrug. “No one looks inside you when you wear it all out in the open.”

“I’m fine with myself, thanks.” She flips her hair over her shoulders. “Me? I like. Others? I tolerate out of necessity.”

“Keep on telling yourself that. Maybe one day I’ll believe it.”

She lifts a challenging brow.

“If you didn’t like me, you wouldn’t have brought me here. You wouldn’t have shared this part of yourself,” I insist.

“No matter what you do, you can’t stop the inevitable transition. That’s why I’m telling you this.”

Oh good, we’re back to her cheering for my transition. “It might happen. It might not. You know what, though?”

Her eyes narrow on me, expecting a snide follow-up.

“I’m glad I have you around to help me through it, whichever way the wind blows,” I declare.

She opens her mouth, closes it, then opens it again. I stare blanks while I wait for whatever she’s coming back with. Tally is one of the most annoying, self-centered people I’ve ever met, but there’s something beautiful on the outside trying to claw its way back in. Will she be brave enough to let it?

She swallows hard. “I’m glad I have you around to help me, too.”