“I’m saying… you know, there’s this really simple, easy way to decide this.”

“Decide what?”

“Whether I’m a bad person.”

“I told you earlier, I think you’re a hero, doing what you do, by your own standards. I think you’re a good person at heart, you just need some guidance to be a great person.”

“You—” Amy couldn’t help but huff out a laugh. “You just really sounded like Carol for a second there. My hair stood on end.”

“Not my intention,” Jessica said, and the woman allowed herself a smile.

“Others don’t think I’m good. I know I’ll sound crazy if I say there’s at least one person in my building who watches my comings and goings and keeps an eye on me, but really.”

“Really, I suspect you may be right. I know they do the same for some others.”

Emboldened, Amy continued, “It makes me want to shake them, and poke a hole in their logic. If I was a bad person, I wouldn’t have done what I did. If I was a bad person, I’d have every last thing I wanted, and the world would be better off as a whole.”

“I don’t understand.”

“I’d have just used my power on Victoria. Done. Break down artificial barriers between two people who aren’t even blood related. I’d use my power on Carol and Mark, and they’d love me. Mark wouldn’t be depressed. They’d accept the relationship. No need for me to run away from home, we’re all strong against the Slaughterhouse Nine. I’m free to develop my power and figure things out before Gold Morning. I face the end of the world with Victoria at my side.”

“That may be romanticized.”

“Of course it is. But it’s not wrong either. The bullet points are the same. It’s romanticized because I fantasize about it a lot. How things would have gone. How things could go. There are weeks I work twelve hours every day and when I’m not working I dream of what could have been. There’s more life and feeling in that than in anything else. Than in B—in B, the woman I’m dating.”

“That doesn’t sound healthy.”

“Don’t suggest therapy at me again,” Amy warned.

“Okay. But if you’ll allow it, I’ll talk to people—”

“No,” Amy said.

“Not about particulars, but about cutting back on your work hours.”

“No,” Amy said. “Permission not granted.”

Jessica drew in a deep breath, then nodded.

This wasn’t what Amy had wanted. How had it gone the opposite direction?