(Fanfic Drabble)
He always looked at me differently before, it was the same way Peter looks at me. Like I'm perfect, like I've never seen pain and never done wrong, but now he sees the truth. Not even because of my own fault, and that's what makes it so ironic, so... right. I couldn't stop them from taking me away, and after I found out about his imperfections and I got out, I avoided him. Not ashamed, but scared, and not even of him. Of myself, for myself. Selfish, one of my many faults he never before noticed. I didn't want that image I had of him- that perfect image of him, to leave. I didn't want the truth. Because the truth was imperfect, and if I admitted the truth, I knew that I was as well, that he was. Imperfect. Monsters.