Pike had his hand on the knob when she stopped him. She was wearing him down. She'd already worn away the monster. It was there, still lurking in the back of his mind in that place it would always be, but it was done. She hadn't left. She hadn't been repulsed. And she hadn't been afraid of him. They couldn't lie right now, so no matter how much he wanted to believe that she'd been lying, he couldn't. It just wasn't possible.
That was part of the reason he'd tried to flee. He knew she was tearing down his walls, chunk of brick by chunk of brick. He liked his walls. They were safe. They kept the monster in, and they kept people out. Without them...he didn't want to think about that, didn't want to even contemplate it.
But she was wearing him down. The knob crunched as his hand unconsciously closed around it. He sighed, sounding an awful lot like a tea kettle releasing steam, and let his head thump against the door. His shoulders slumped and suddenly he seemed weak, almost boneless. After a second, he spoke, his voice quiet, hollow, and almost pitiful. "The only thing I deserve is death."