“As he looked at me, he seemed to send a message of his own: that he would still fight for me, that he would fight until he collapsed to keep them from taking me.”

“He walked into my life and slowly, gently he showed me how to smile again, how to start living again. He gave me a reason to breathe again. Showed me that living was worth it and it was worth fighting for. That it was worth taking a risk and making the choices you wanted to make. That he was choosing me, fighting for me and he wanted me to fight for him, for us.”

“He had to fight. That's all he had. Not memories, not experiences, not skills. He had a will. And his will was to fight until he couldn't fight anymore.”

“He only wished to fight and cultivate an anger toward me, thus alleviating his guilt, but I would not abet him in this.”

“He broke his promise. He said he would never hurt me, he said he would never leave. Against my better judgement, he made me believe in forever again... until now.”

“He looks like he could be taken in a fight. Not by me, but by somebody. Not anyone in Humanities, probably.”