“I knew how I was supposed to feel when I was with him. Well, I knew what I was not supposed to feel. I wasn't supposed to feel anxious. Not tense, either. Or maybe I was. Maybe this was normal. I didn't know. So I let him whisper in my ear and put his hands on my hips. And I listened to him list the ways in which I was slowly killing him. None of which turned out to be the actual way that I killed him.”

“I lay on my stomach, reached down and poked him. He rolled up. Then, feeling safe, I suppose, he slowly unrolled. He travelled a few inches in his hundred legs and I touched him again. He rolled up. Feeling sleepy, I decided to end things. My hand was going down on him when Jem spoke.”

“I trace the lines of his tattoos in a way that I know distracts him. I run my hands over his smooth, warm skin. I kiss him now, making him breathless. I lie there listening to his heart beat and I’m still so hungry for him. I feel more alive than ever.”

“I hated feeling like I was using him for my own pleasure, but I knew he wouldn't let me return the favour...if this was the only way I could provide comfort to him and chase away his nightmares, then so be it. Selfless, I know. Mother-friggin-Teresa, right here.”

“I think that is supposed to be good, that I get less from him but I feel worthless.”

“When it happens, this is what happens: I shoot myself.Not, you know, my self self. I shoot my future self. He steps out of a time machine, introduces himself as Charles Yu. What else am I supposed to do? I kill him. I kill my own future.”