I wished that she didn’t want to join me. I wished that she’d said “no”, the same way you wish that the other person doesn’t want the last slice of pie, even though you offered.

But, she’d said “yes”, and there was no way I could refuse her.
“Grace,” I started, as we made our way to a hospital room. “This job is…difficult. It changes you. It starves you. It—”
“I don’t care,” she blinked. “It doesn’t matter.”
“It does matter!” I yelled, turning to face her. “People fear you, curse you, hate you! You think it’s easy to sleep at night with that on your mind? You think it’s so easy to take a vacation from all of this?”
“You offered the position.” Grace frowned.
“I hoped that you were too frightened to accept! I hoped…I don’t want this for you.”
Grace was silent for a moment. She leaned her head against the rough wall and spoke. “It doesn’t matter, because it’s my fault Andre died; people already hate me.”