Her gaze locks onto mine, searching, measuring, daring me to dismiss it.
“You take everything from me,” she says, voice quieter now, but far more dangerous. “Every vision. Every piece of it. Until there’s nothing left to give. And then you decide I’m no longer useful.”
The image forms in my mind despite myself. Unpleasant. Precise. I have no such plans for her. Never had.
“And you believe that,” I say.
“I saw it.”
“That does not make it inevitable.”
“It makes it possible.”
“Everything is possible.”
“Not everything feels real like that did.”
The conviction in her voice is enough to give pause.
“You’re allowing that possibility to dictate your actions,” I say.
“I’m accounting for it.”
“You’re letting it control you.”
“And you’re trying to convince me it shouldn’t.”
“I’m telling you it’s inefficient. I am not trying to hurt you.”
A humorless laugh escapes her. “Of course you are.”
I reach for control again.
“And what would you prefer?” I ask. “That I ignore the fact that you’re making decisions based on fear of something that hasn’t happened? No matter how many times I tell you I won't hurt you.”
“I would prefer you stop pretending you wouldn’t do it.”
The words land exactly as intended, with a precision that leaves no room for dismissal, their meaning settling between us with a weight that is clean, direct, and impossible to ignore. She doesn't trust me. And she really thinks I would kill her. I feel the change the moment it happens, subtle but undeniable, something tightening beneath the surface of her control as the distance between us loses whatever illusion it had left.
I step closer, closing that space entirely, until there is nothing left to buffer the tension building between us, nothing left to soften what comes next.
“Then test it,” I say quietly.
Her breath stutters.
“Test what?”
“Your fear.”
This settles between us heavy with implication.
“You believe I will turn on you,” I continue, holding her gaze, refusing to look away, refusing to allow retreat into abstraction. “That I will use you until you’re no longer useful. That I will remove you when the cost outweighs the benefit.”
“Yes.”
“Then act on it.”
Confusion flickers.