The quill froze in her hand as he spoke. She'd been right in her assumption that someone else in his family was affected, she had even readied her next few questions: do your parents suffer from it? Your grandparents? Rosalie felt strongly that if they could narrow down the generation that began the curse then they might be able to find the right chord to break it. The struggle then was if the curse stretched back as far as those living could remember, but all her thoughts of its origin came to a screeching halt when he said, I enjoy hurting you.

It had to be another lie, and yet the four words were enough to have her look sharply from him.

They hadn't parted on amicable terms, there was no reason for Ezra to not find enjoyment out of hurting her. It was a thought she often struggled with when trying to sleep. Ezra had been trying to hurt her that night in the closet, and he'd succeeded. Just as he'd succeeded at the Coming Out Ball and every other time they'd talked since she left him. Rosalie gripped the quill tighter. It was the curse, it wasn't necessarily him.

(But what if it was?)

"I - I think that was the curse." Rosalie said quietly, still not looking at him. Her confidence was visibly shaken now, and still she had to find a way to press on. Her head turned back to him, her normally clear eyes stormy in the dim light. "I'm going to ask another question now, if that's okay?"

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