"I know your type." Damien smirked. I frowned and looked down at my knotted fingers. "My type?" I whispered. "Yeah, your type. It's like a smoke and mirrors game. Everybody loves you right? But as soon as Annabell steps in the room, they forget about you. You dress like a slut and go to parties with your older boyfriend. You drink, smoke, make out with random girls because he likes that, because you get the attention you want. They call you Avalon, but they don't know Gabriella. You're not Avalon, you're Gabriella, but you won't let Avalon go because you like the attention. So which one is it going to be? Avalon the whore? Or Gabriella, the good girl ?"