“The knowledge that I could hurt him if I needed to-if I wanted to-gave me a heady feeling of power.It probably wasn't healthy.Still, if he did something stupid and forced me to drain him, well, I wouldn't cry about it.”

“then he jumped..I owe him so much. I needed him. I still do.But he's gone.He told me once that I shouldn't make people into heroes. He said that heroes didn't exist and that even if they did he wouldn't be one of them.which goes to show. he wasn't right about everything..”

“Looking at him like that, I felt like I needed something from him, or somebody, and that probably meant that he also needed something from me, or somebody, but the revelation was like looking at spots on a slide. Knowing that it meant something to somebody wasn't the same as it meaning something to you.”

“Mostly, I could tell, I made him feel uncomfortable. He didn't understand me, and he was sort of holding it against me. I felt the urge to reassure him that I was like everybody else, just like everybody else. But really there wasn't much point, and I gave up the idea out of laziness.”

“I hate hiding how much the stupid things he did hurt me, but I hated the idea of him finding out even more.”

“I wanted him to think about me as much as I thought about him. I wanted him to miss me when I wasn't around, like I missed him. I wanted him to want me like he'd never wanted anyone else, the way that I wanted him. I wanted for him to never be able to get enough of me, as I seemed not to be able to get enough of him.”