"Foolish to let myself think even for a moment that there could be friendship between us. Foolish to allow myself to believe there could be redemption. Foolish to lull myself into a false hope. Foolish to think she could ever see me as anything but a monster, that she could feel anything but hatred and revulsion for me. It was not she that fooled me. I fooled myself into believing these things. That sliver of hope became a beacon, something I wanted desperately to grab hold of.
"I hate him. I know I hate him. What he did, I’ll never forgive it. Ever. But then I do things, things I don’t understand. And I just wish he could be that monster I always imagined he was because then hating him would make so much more sense, but he’s not and I actually feel bad for hating him. I shouldn’t have to feel bad for hating him."
That sounds like the beginning of a love story, not the end of one.