Page 155 of Such Sharp Teeth

“What happened?”

“What always happens,” she says. “Went home with the wrong guy.”

She pulls down her sweats to show me her bite. Hers is on her hip, but otherwise it looks just like mine.

“Never really heals, does it?”

“Nope,” she says, untangling a dead leaf from her hair. “At least he left a note. That’s how I knew about the tonic. And I had the van, so I could drive out to wherever. Remote campsites, middle of nowhere. Take the tonic. Wait out the moon. I thought I was handling it. Then I come back here.”

She takes another drag.

“He’s dead,” she says. “My dad. Died in his sleep. Everything he put me through, and he gets to go out peacefully, warm in his own bed. No guilt. No consequence. No nothing.”

She sighs, wipes away some silent tears. “I was like you at first. After I was bitten. Bitter, upset. But lately I’ve been thinking, ‘What if it’s more of a gift than a curse?’ ”

“What are you talking about?”

“Aren’t you fucking angry? Don’t you want to tear it all apart? I spent too long being powerless. I won’t go back to that.”

“Mia . . .”

“I’m done, Rory. I don’t want to take the wolfsbane anymore. I don’t want to suffer, sacrifice my strength. Why should I?”

“I need a cigarette.”

She tosses me the pack. I take one and light it with the Bic wedged inside the foil.

“Silver,” I say, showing her my medallion. “If you wear silver, you can control yourself during the full moon. No suffering. It’s, like, this synergy. It’s—”

“And what if I don’t want to control myself?”

“What if I’m not giving you a choice?”

“Yeah? What are you gonna do?” She leans back against the tree, crosses her arms over her chest. “What kills me is you of all people should understand.”

“You can’t free yourself of pain by causing pain. If you don’t take measures to control yourself, all you’ll do is cause pain. There’s no relief in destruction. I think you know that.”

She closes her eyes. She’s quiet for a while. Tears stream down her face, fall into the snow. “But it feels so good, doesn’t it?”

I look up at the sun, rising, rising. “You can’t stay here.”

“What?”

“You have to leave, Mia. You can’t stay here.”

She scoffs. “That’s rich. You think I want to be here in this shithole town? Date someone from high school? No fucking way. I’m too big for this place. I thought you were, too.”

“I want proof. Send me a postcard or something.”

“You want to be pen pals? Adorable.”

“I need proof that you’re far away from me and everyone I care about.”

She sneers. “There it is.”

“I care about you, Mia. Despite everything, I still do. But I don’t trust you anymore. You’re a fucking loose cannon, and I can’t risk it. I’m asking you. Wear silver. Take the wolfsbane. Do something to make sure you don’t hurt anyone else. And you’re right. I can’t make you. But I will make good on my threat to rip your throat out if I ever see you anywhere near Ian, or Scarlett, or my niece, or if you set foot in this town ever again.”

She lifts her chin. “If you say so, sunshine.”