"Perhaps Dullahan does not create every part of you," she said. "Perhaps it brings certain feelings closer to the surface. Makes them louder. Harder to bury."
"A scumbag who adds women left and right to his roster of lovers and feels happy about it?"
The White Lady burst out laughing.
Not a small laugh, either.
She covered her mouth for a moment, then shook her head as if I had said the most ridiculous thing possible.
"You truly are sensitive."
"Can you stop laughing?"
"I am trying."
"You are not."
"No, I am not."
I glared at her until she managed to settle down. She drew in a breath, wiped at the corner of one eye, and looked at me again.
"The world ended, and somehow you still judge yourself by rules that were built for a world that no longer exists," she said. "You speak as though you have ruined these women's lives merely because they care for you and choose to remain close to you."
"That is not what I said."
"It is what you are afraid of."
I looked away.
