If he dies, I'll never go home. I'll spend the rest of my life in this arena, trying to think my way out.

“Okay, maybe I don't go around loving everybody I meet, maybe my smiles are hard…”

“Tiny, searing stabs. Wherever the droplets of mist touch my skin."Run!" I screa…”

“but it's not safe and I can feel him slipping away, so I just get out one more …”

“Since I’ve been home I’ve been trying hard to mend my relationship with my moth…”