“I woke up in the morning and I didn’t want anything, didn’t do anything, couldn’t do it anyway, just lay there listening to the blood rushthrough me and it never made any sense, anything.”

“And it seemed hard to believe that these people who were so close to me couldn’t see how desperate I was, or if they could they didn’t care enough to do anything about it, or if they cared enough to do anything about it they didn’t believe there was anything they could do, not knowing—or not wanting to know—that their belief might have been the thing that made the difference.”

“When anyone tells me I can't do anything, I'm just not listening any more.”

“You couldn’t truly love anything if you didn’t hate at least something. Indeed, perhaps you couldn’t truly love anything if you didn’t hate almost everything.”

“You guys didn’t try to do anything to me,” I say honestly. “You brought me to a house because you wanted to freak me out. You didn’t know that your friend would wind up getting torn in half and disemboweled.”

“I kissed his forehead. “You don’t have to thank me. I told you, I do anything for someone I care about.”He pulled away and looked up at me. “You said you do anything for someone you love.”I didn’t know how to respond to that. We were in such a precarious place. I didn’t want to say anything that might scare him away or let him know how I truly felt, because at the end of the day, I loved him. It was that simple. Instead I gave him a small smile. “I did say that, didn’t I?”