EVEN
I guess you think this is fair. That you finally got even.
I stabbed your friend, but you shot my daughter. My flesh and blood. She might have been a monster, but I made her.
I could see myself in her. Somewhere behind those devil's eyes was my daughter.
Even through her lying, twisted words, I could hear my own voice. She tried to chat me up with my own tactics; like some of my techniques had seeped into her DNA.
She had your genes, too. Monster or not, she was your niece. She was my daughter.
Maybe she could have turned around. Maybe the hunter in her would have conquered the monster. You were always the one who saw the good in people.
What is it you didn't see in her?
All I saw was myself. My beautiful daughter. Emma.
But then you shot. And she screamed. And all her beauty was drained away.
You said you killed the monster, compared her to Amy. But there is no true comparison. No true revenge like killing my flesh and blood.
Maybe you think you've settled the score.
But now we will never be even.