“It’s my fault we went on the paths,” he says. “It’s my fault we left the village and didn’t stay to take care of Gabry.” His voice grows louder with each statement. “It’s my fault you and I got lost in the Forest and barely found a way out. All of this—all of it!—is my fault.” He sounds almost out of control and he takes a long breath before saying, “It’s my fault you’re …” He gestures at my face, trying to find the right word.

“Ugly,” I say for him.

“You’re not ugly!” he snaps. “You’ve always refused to believe that and I couldn’t stand the pressure of having to believe it for you.”

I jerk my head back, surprised at the outburst, but he keeps going, oblivious to the way his words tear through me. “You wanted me to be a hero and that’s what I tried to be. That’s why I left.”

He rubs his hand across his forehead, his eyes closed tight for a moment. “I knew what we were doing to survive wasn’t going to be enough—it was never enough. I had to find a way to make life better for us. I couldn’t stand to just keep plodding along—I wanted something better. I was selfish.”

I say nothing. Just stand there. I’d never thought of him as selfish. If anything, I’d never thought enough about what he wanted, who he truly was.

He lets out a long slow breath. “I was scared, Annah, can’t you see? I left because of my own failing. Not because of yours.”

I’m shocked by what he’s saying. I’d had no idea. No idea he’d ever felt that way.

“I was never going to be able to be the person you needed.” He sounds defeated and tired all of a sudden. “I wanted to come home and tell you that I’d taken care of everything for us. That we were safe and had a home and we didn’t have to worry about skinning or going hungry or not having a roof over our heads or getting evicted from the Dark City. I wanted to be able to tell you that you were safe.”

He grabs my shoulders and I wait to feel the heat before I remember that it’s Catcher who burns me with his touch, not Elias.

“I did it for you, Annah,” he says. He shakes me a little, as if he can force the words into my consciousness.

I stare at him. His eyes glisten and his lips tremble. I’d never told him he was enough for me. I was the one who failed him. Inside, I feel numb—so many emotions battling that they cancel each other out to nothing.