This is what hatred is. It will feed you and at the same time turn you to rot. 
It is hard and deep and angular, a system of blockades. It is everything and total. 
Hatred is a high tower. In the Wilds, I start to build, and to climb. 

“I wonder if this is how people get close: They heal each other's wounds.”

“If he were less well trained, and less careful, he would say hate. But he can’t…”

“I start to follow her, and Alex grabs my hand."I'll find you," he says, watchin…”

“The past will drag you backward and down, have you snatching at whispers of win…”