The clothes were black, black, and more black. More to the point, she was a different build than I was, almost narrow, while I considered myself more of an athletic slim. There might be issues with fit.

“Thank you,” I said.

“The other two things, hm. I could offer it as a trade.”

“A trade of what?”

“I’m stealing Rain’s thunder, maybe, but… a haircut?”

“I’m working with one hand. I can use the other some, but… how much of a haircut?”

“The haircut we thought would work for Swansong,” Ashley said.

I paused. “I think I could manage something.”

“In exchange… take my keys. Take over the rent for the apartment.”

My eyebrows went up.

“You’re staying with your cousin, you said. If you haven’t found a place, then stay here instead. Keep the things you like and store the things you don’t.”

“You planned this.”

“I never had a place, Victoria. My life is vague dreams and clear destruction. Again and again, life tells me I can’t do this, I can’t do that. It goes wrong or I can’t think of it as being right… and I’m not talking about right as good. The thoughts loop through my head, that nobody can be trusted, everyone is out to get me, and… dying is a really good reality check. I’m trying to take that to heart. I was trying.”

“What happened? There were so many moments that seemed so cool, the photo on the train, Swansong, seeing how you were in the sparring…”

“All punctuated by fits of pique, madness. It’s not something that goes away or gets better.”

Those words were uncomfortable. There were already some parallels. The idea that there could never be a fix to this side of me that I couldn’t control…

She continued, “Some things are starting to make sense, about the group members, my memories, and how this all works, and I can’t even figure those things out because getting to tomorrow is already so hard. It’s been hard for too many days.”

“It doesn’t get easier when you’re in prison. I’m not saying you shouldn’t go, but…”

“When I make a mistake now, I kill Beast of Burden. If they incarcerate me? I can let myself be someone else’s concern. I think I know what it’s going to be like, and I’m ready for it.”

I nodded. I struggled to voice a response, because I was pretty sure she was wrong.

She was trying to build a new self like someone built a house of cards. It was a precarious thing, and if she slipped up once—destruction of the self. Something completely different from death. If she had a last chance then this would be it.

She tried to sound confident in tone, and she wasn’t convincing me.