“There was something twisting in his gut that he wanted to deny and couldn't. It was like a knife in him that he could not remove lest he bleed to death.”

“Pain and guilt tore through him. His soul was bleeding to death. He stood there, waiting to die. How could he not? But such wounds were not fatal.”

“I was as real to him as he was to me and it struck me just then that I meant something to him. In whatever capacity he was able, I meant something. The irony of that epiphany made my gut twist.”

“Jon wanted nothing more. No, he had to tell himself, those days are gone. The realization twisted in his belly like a knife. They had chosen him to rule. The Wall was his, and their lives were his as well. A lord may love the men that he commands, he could hear his lord father saying, but he cannot be a friend to them. One day he may need to sit in judgement on them, or send them forth to die.”

“He put the point of the knife against what he thought was the cricothyroid membrane, steadied it with the right hand, then slammed the butt with his left palm.Pain shrieked through him as the knife went in. Blood spurted over his hands. He hoped he hadn't hit the carotid artery--local variation in the throat was considerable, and blood vessels were tricky.He still couldn't breath. Panic flailed in him and he slapped the butt of the knife again, as hard as he could.He felt the point strike the back of his throat, gagged, felt more pain. He took a grip on the grainy plastic handle of the knife and twisted, felt cartilage grind as he forced it apart----and he breathed. Blood spattered as the long, full breath whistled out. He gurgled as he breathed in.[...]When he felt ready he got to his feet. He found a fork and jabbed the tines into his incision, then twisted to keep it open. His lungs kept going into spasm in an attempt to cough the obstruction out.”

“Blood stopped binding us the instant he came at my throat. If this thing is stalking me because of him, then I’m more than ready to slash his throat and laugh while he bleeds to death at my feet. Give me the knife and stand back. (Aiden)”