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"Do you need my understanding as much as I need yours?" […]
"You're not the devil, and you know that you're not. Don't do this to me! I forbid it!" He clenched his teeth on the last words. "You are in your own heart as human as I am. And you will not do it."
"The hell I won't," I said. I laughed. I couldn't help it suddenly. Never had I descended into a soul I knew so well. Did he know now how dark and willful was my soul?
"No, damn you, damn you into hell. No! Oh, so strong. So very strong. Yes, fight me, fight me. So sweet that you are fighting me. I love it. I do.”
"I love you," he whispered.
"Yes, and I love you," I answered.
"You're hurt," he whispered. "Are you? Are you hurt?"
"For the love of God," I answered in a raw, torn voice. "How can you care if I'm hurt?" […]
"Why did you do it?" he demanded. What a mask was this face. And then it flashed with anger as he spoke again. "Why did you do it?"
"I don't know."
"Oh, don't give me that. And don't give me those tears! Why did you do it?"
"I tell you the truth. I don't know. I could give you all the many reasons, but I don't know. I did it because I wanted to do it, because I wanted to. Because I wanted to see what would happen if I did it, I wanted to ...
and I couldn't not do it.”
"You miserable, lying bastard. You did it from cruelty and meanness! […]
What is the use of describing my misery? Of describing the dull dark pain I felt? What is the use of saying I knew the full measure of my injustice, my dishonor, and my cruelty? I knew the magnitude of what I'd done to him. I knew myself and all my evil to the fullest and I expected nothing back from the world now except the very same evil in kind. […]
"I tried to hate you," he confessed, the eyes widening even as the voice nearly died away. "I couldn't do it; it's as simple as that."
"Why not?"
"Don't play with me."
"I've never played with you! I mean these things when I say them. How can you not hate me?"