“Please—please get up—and lower your voice—”“Hell no.”“Why not?” I’m pleading now.“Because if I lower my voice, I won’t be able to hear myself speak. And that,” he says, “is my favorite part.”

“I'm just messing with you guys. I like seeing psycho chick get all intense." He glances at me, lowers his voice. "I mean that as a compliment--because, you know"--he waves a haphazard hand in my direction--"psycho kind of works for you.”

“Sir, can you hear me?" Another cry. But this time, a voice I don't detest."Sire, please, can you hear me-""I've been shot, Delalieu," I manage to say. I open my eyes. Look into his watery ones. "I haven't gone deaf.”

“I can’t feel my fingers or the cold or the emptiness of this room because all I feel is him, everywhere,filling everything and he whispers“Please.”He says “Please don’t shoot me for this.”And he kisses me.”

“So if you're trying to play games with me, I should let you know up front that it's not going to work."What?" I frown "what are you talking abou-""You can't play hard to get, kid." He raises his eyebrow. "I can't even touch you. Takes 'hard to get' to a whole new level, if you know what I mean." "Oh my god," I mouth, eyes closed, shaking my head. "You are insane." He falls to his knees. "Insane for your sweet, sweet love!" "Kenji" I can't lift my eyes because I'm afraid to look around, but I'm desperate for him to stop talking. To put an entire room between us at all times. I know he's joking, but I might be the only one. "What?" he says, his voice booming around the room. "Does my love embarass you?" "Please-please get up-and lower your voice-" "Hell no.""Why not?" I'm pleading now. "Because if I lower my voice, I won't be able to hear myself speak. And that," He says, "Is my faviorite part."I can't even look at him."Don't deny my Juliette I'm a lonely man."What is wrong with you?""You're breaking my heart." His voice is even louder now,”

“And he leans in, so carefully. Breathing and not breathing and hearts beating between us and he's so close, he's so close and I can't feel my legs anymore. I can't feel my fingers or the cold or the emptiness of this room because all I feel is him, everywhere, filling everything and he whispers"Please."He says, "Please don't shoot me for this.”

“This pen is my only outlet, my only voice, because I have no one else to speak to, no mind but my own to drown in and all the lifeboats are taken and all the life preservers are broken and I don’t know how to swim I can’t swim I can’t swim and it’s getting so hard. It’s getting so hard. It’s like there are a million screams caught inside of my chest but I have to keep them all in because what’s the point of screaming if you’ll never be heard and no one will ever hear me in here. No one will ever hear me again.”