“Like we were connected, the echo of his pain twisted inside inside me. his pain, my pain.”

“Everything inside me twisted in pain and relief. My brothers. I was in the same room as my brothers.”

“Don't take my pain away, leave my pain right there, you could even put more pain inside my pain and it wouldn't bother me.”

“I didn't feel physically sick. But mentally. My mind was twisting in so many ways. (...) We once saw a documentary on migraines. One of the men interviewed used to fall on his knees and bang his head against the floor, over and over during attacks. This diverted the pain from deep inside his brain, where he couldn't reach it, to a pain outside that he had control over.”

“Phaedra of Alonso’s death was a never-ending pain that gnawed at his insides. It made him a prisoner in his own cottage.”

“Even then, it hurt. The pain was always there, pulling me inside of myself, demanding to be felt. It always felt like I was waking up from the pain when something in the world outside of me suddenly required my comment or attention.”