Abigail looked over at Maze. Those were two large confessions. Her father, Hannibal, and to a lesser extent Nicholas Boyle, had been the only ones to physically hurt her. Three. Easy to count and they'd caused so much damage. She had a hard time wrapping her mind around the idea of countless people hurting Maze. It sounded terrible, like a nightmare. She could easily understand preferring to hurt, but it was a hard thing for most people to admit.
"How many people have you hurt?" Abigail asked softly, reminding herself that hurting didn't necessarily mean killing. "Did it make you feel powerful?"