Kill Switch by Penelope Douglas

I jerked away from his hands. “It hardly matters. You
already ruined my life. Long ago.”
“In the treehouse when you were eight,” he finished my
thought for me. “I remember that party. It’s funny, though.
That’s all you do remember, isn’t it?”
“What are you talking about?”
“The fountain,” he pointed out. “Do you remember what
happened in the fountain before we went to the treehouse that
day?”
The fountain? I searched my brain through my confusion,
not coming up with anything that stood out as out of the
ordinary. I was eight, so I couldn’t remember every detail after
all this time. Just that he was hurt, and I’d tried to help. The
events after the fountain were what mattered.
“Nothing happened,” I told him.
I wasn’t letting him take what happened that day and turn
it around on me. I was nice to him. Nothing I did or said
deserved what happened after. Neither did anything I did or
said years later in high school deserve what else he took from
me.
Part of me was still curious about what he was getting at,
though, and I thought he might elaborate, but he didn’t. He left
me in the dark.
He sighed. “I’m out of my own control, Winter,” he said,
not explaining any further. “There are no choices. We are who
we are, and we do what we do. It’s nature. Like game pieces, I
will play my part, because I can’t resist. I can’t be what I’m
not.”
I frowned. He sounded resolute. Like this was the end for
me.
“I hope you won’t disappoint,” he finished.
So, this was it, then? He was going forward with whatever
ugly desires that simmered inside his twisted brain, because he
was determined to not understand the pain he caused and that
crimes have consequences? He’d gotten what he deserved.