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“¨I hate you,¨ I whisper before he can speak. He tilts my face to his. ¨Say it again,¨ he says as the imps comb my hair and place the ugly, stinking crown on my head. His voice is low. The words are for me alone. I pull out of his grip, but not before I see his expression. He looks as he did when he was forced to answer my questions, when he admitted his desire for me. He looks as though he´s confessing. page 104-105” — Holly Black
¨I hate you,¨ I whisper before he can speak. He tilts my face to his. ¨Say it again,¨ he says as the imps comb my hair and place the ugly, stinking crown on my head. His voice is low. The words are for me alone. I pull out of his grip, but not before I see his expression. He looks as he did when he was forced to answer my questions, when he admitted his desire for me. He looks as though he´s confessing.
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