It was Priestly. Priestly, who loved her. Priestly, who would never hurt her, or judge her, or any of the other things that her family had done - would do - once they discovered what she'd done. Priestly who...
He's just with you for your looks. Cute, young, blond cheerleader. He thinks you're as shallow as you really are.
Claire didn't know where the thought came from but it was enough to make her flinch away from Priestly's touch. Her eyes went wide and she all but lurched from his arms, the gun firing in several wild directions and managing to hit the wall twice and shatter a lamp. Her bare feet slid across the shards of glass that rained down upon the carpet as she stumbled into a standing position, but she paid no attention to the cuts. Instead she merely raised the gun and aimed it at her boyfriend; tears streaked her face and her chest heaved with a mixture of terror and anger.
"Don't touch me!" she all but shrieked. There was a click as she pulled back the hammer on the firearm. Shoot him! It was that same voice and she shook her head to dispel it, whispering an almost inaudible, "No. I-"
Shoot. Him. It's your only choice.
Claire blinked through her tears. "I don't want to hurt you," she whimpered pitifully in a small, frightened tone.