" This is my fault. I know it's my fault. I should never have let you get so comfortable. You started thinking of me as harmless. I'm safe. I'm the monster at the end of the book, the one that you run to when the bigger monsters start threatening to eat you, but that's not right, Toby, that's not right, you forget yourself. You forget me. I am the scariest thing that has ever gone bump in the night. I am what you knew, at the bottom of your un-formed child's heart, was lurking in the back of your closet. And what I'm telling you, right here and right now, is that you need to leave, because I'm afraid of what will happen if you don't."
I stared at her, fighting the urge to take a step backwards. Something told me that retreating would mean showing weakness, and showing weakness would be a mistake. "I'm not scared of you. If you were going to kill me, you'd have done it a long time ago, and it wouldn't have been over a yes or no question."
"Toby." She said my name gently, and with a deep centuries-long sorrow. "Who the fuck said I needed you to be afraid of me?" She took another step forward dropping her voice to a whisper: "Run. "

― Seanan McGuire , The Winter Long (October Daye, #8)