This suggestion enrages him. “Don’t ever compare yourself to them.” His voice is an angry growl. “You are a Maker. You are a Sire. You are made in the image of the Conductor and live a life dedicated to continuing the creation of the world, instead of living a destructive life of wastefulness, on instinct, like an animal.” His face is full of disdain. “You may have come to us as a weed, but you have the potential to be so much more. Being my food was the most relevant thing she”—he motions to the poor girl’s limp body as if she were a plate of discarded leftovers—“will ever do.”

“She’s a person,” I respond quietly. I don’t understand how he doesn’t see this. Is that how he thinks of Georgie? Like food? “They’re all people, with the same potential that Makers have. Don’t you see this amazing city?”

“More denial. You know how useless your life was before you came to Genesis.” He starts spraying everything down with stain remover—because of course the Makers have one that actually works. It’s done wonders for my period underwear. “They’re all lazy consumers. Only a handful of philistines have made any useful contributions to the world since the Maker Exodus. And it has all been used to fuel greed or war.”

He has no idea how wrong he is. “I’m just like them, and you seem to have stopped detesting me. Can’t you realize that if you gave them a chance, you would see their worth as well?”

He steps close to me, looks me straight in the eyes, his doped-up gaze a shiny, unnatural shade of steel, and oh so angry. “You. Are. So. Much. More. Than. Them.”

He’s so close that my clothes are in danger of being stained by the blood. So close that I don’t even see the blood anymore. So close that I hear his heart hammering at preternatural speed.

I look away first.

He says, “I’m going to get cleaned up.” I hear the bathroom door slam.

I wait for a moment, breathing heavily. Then I follow him in a huff. This conversation isn’t over, and I can’t be alone in the room with the girl’s unconscious body.

I enter the bathroom with my eyes shut. He’s already in the shower, water turned on full blast. I squint my eyes open, and when I see the curtain safety drawn, I open them fully. The remains of his clothing lie in a messy pile in the corner of the room. A lonely hair tie is discarded on the vanity near the sink. I close the door behind me so I don’t have to see the girl lying there, prone and limp.

“I can’t be part of this anymore.” I raise my voice loud enough to be heard over the sound of the water.