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He'd loved her, but he'd messed up royally.

And he was sorry.  

But she knew she had not been honest, and she'd pushed him. 

But that didn't matter to her, none of it. 

She wasn't sorry.

She chose to treat what she knew wasn't real as a death sentence.  

All that mattered to her was her phony bullshit.

That made her bullshit incarnate. 

And she would always be bullshit, with her bullshit values and her bullshit rat men. 

Her world was bullshit, and she wanted it to be. 

She could die mad, die pretending she wasn't and that she didn't care. 

He'd die mad too, but he would die honest, not a jackal. 

She could die hated, pretending her users loved her.

Pretend she had a reason to hate him.

She could have been beautiful to him forever. 

She chose ugly.