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“Maybe you didn’t.”

My forehead creases at the remark.

“Maybe giving a little helping hand to their karmic fate was the sanest thing you’ve ever done.”

“How can you say that?” I ask, genuinely confused. “They had people who loved them. They had friends. Families. Brooke and Misty even had kids, for fuck’s sake. Kids, Sienna!”

“So did Mr. Collins. But that didn’t stop them from ruining his life or depriving his children of growing up with a father.”

“They had no way of knowing Mr. Collins would take his own life.”

“There you go being cagey with your words again. I think what you really meant to say is that they didn’t care,” Sienna replies flatly.

“It doesn’t matter what their intentions were. Mine were worse,” I retort. “Their children are going to grow up without mothers because of me.” My voice fractures. “Because of me, Sienna. There’s no forgiveness for what I’ve done.”

She opens her mouth, but I don’t let her speak.

“You and I both know what it’s like to grow up without a mother. I know what that does to a child. Knowing that I’ve inflicted that same pain on innocent children who had absolutely nothing to do with any of this…”

I press my trembling fingers against my lips, trying to keep myself from falling apart.

“They didn’t deserve that. Whatever their mothers did to me, those children didn’t deserve to lose them.” I wipe away my angry tears with my sleeve. “I should have died that night. That’s what I deserved.”

“What you deserved?” she asks quietly. “Or what you wanted?”

I press my lips together, refusing to say anything else.

“That’s what I thought.”

She walks back toward the cell, stopping so close to the bars that I can see the anger burning in her eyes.

“Yes, Max. You lived. They tried to kill you, and you fucking lived. Scarred, traumatized, and carrying around more guilt than any one person should ever have to bear, but alive.” Her voice softens then. “You need to stop punishing yourself for that. You need to let go of your survivor’s guilt. Not for anyone else, but for you.”

“It’s not that simple.”

“I know it isn’t. But you’ve spent more than enough time punishing yourself for surviving that night, Max. A decade is a mighty long time to carry around guilt for something that was never your fault to begin with.” She grips one of the bars. “When are you going to stop punishing yourself and start living again?”

I don’t have an answer.

“And as for Brooke and Misty’s kids having to grow up without their mothers…” She exhales sharply. “Maybe now they’ll have a real shot at not growing up to be assholes.”

“Sienna, don’t say that.”

“Why? Because it’s cruel?” She arches a brow. “You know what’s cruel? Raising children to believe they’re better than everyone else. Teaching them that humiliating someone is entertainment, that cruelty is something to be proud of, and that the only way to get ahead in life is to make sure everyone around you feels beneath them.”

“You don’t know what kind of mothers they were.”

“No, I don’t. Maybe they loved their children more than anything in this world. Maybe they tucked them into bed every night and told them they were the most precious things on earth. But loving your children doesn’t automatically make you a good person, Max. And it sure as hell doesn’t mean you can’t teach them to hate.”

I purse my lips, unable to argue with that.

“Hatred is taught,” she continues. “We’re not born with hatred in our hearts. That shit gets beaten into us. By our parents, our families, our friends, the communities we grow up in. Or by the fucking trauma we encounter along the way. Nobody comes into this world knowing how to hate someone for being different. Somebody teaches us that shit.” She pauses, her features softening as it settles on me. “And you know what the saddest part in all of this is? The Reds taught you how to hate, too. Not other people. Yourself.”

I bite the inside of my cheek, hating how much of it rings true.

“They spent years making you believe there was something wrong with you. That you were worthless. That you didn’t deserve happiness, or love, or even the right to exist in the same world as them. And they did such a good job that even now, after everything they’ve put you through, you’re still sitting there believing you deserved to die right along with them.”

I look away, afraid Sienna will see how her words have struck a nerve.