Shou shreds a page between his fingers. “I was trying not to sleep because, you know.” He holds out his forearm, the criss-crossing scars bright and ugly against his skin. “It worked for a while, but…”
“But nobody can stay awake forever,” she finishes, eyes on the ruined paper.
He can feel his cheeks start to burn.
“I tried to once. To kill myself, I mean.”
She grimaces, looks over at the bookshelves. “Clarke took over. He’s tougher to kill than I am.”
He isn’t sure what to do with this confession, so instead he asks, “Who’s Clarke?”