"You never gave me a reason to think I could, Owen," she said softly, sitting down on the bed. "You couldn't really call us friends, could you? Oh, I liked you, I liked all of you, but the only thing people do is hurt you, when they find out that you're not good enough."
She looked down at her hands. She could still feel the chill of the glove on her right hand, connected to her. Giving her power over death.
"You never let people see how weak you are, they'll use it against you. Max was... he was easier. I could let him see, because he'd forget. He'd understand the horror, he wasn't hardened by it like we all became. It twists us, this job, it makes us different. Makes us do horrible things for the very best of reasons."