With each passing even they became more woven, unintelligible.
It's quite sad actually, that the man opening the door behind me and saying silent while I sob into the coldness has no chance of a proper life. Yet, when he's with me, he's good at keeping himself balanced. When I'm not there, he's somehow capable of murder.
My gaze falls on Aria again, and I wrap a strand of brown around my finger, tsking at the change of color to try and defy me.
She could have any color of hair, and she'd still be mine.
She sleeps so beautifully.
Even if she's covered in another man's blood.
"I wish you'd stop expecting me to use my power to kill people."
He shrugs "I never said you had to, but it will happen along the way: it's an inevitability in war. Killing is statistically impossible to avoid."
"You're joking, right?"
"Absolutely not."
"You can always avoid killing people, Warner. You avoid killing them by not going to war.”
But he grins, so brilliantly, not even paying attention. “I love it when you say my name,” he says. “I don’t even know why.”
“Warner isn’t your name,” I point out. “Your name is Aaron.”
His smile is wide, so wide. “God, I love that.”
“Your name?”
“Only when you say it."
I'm a traitor to myself.
Emptiness is a strange feeling.
It makes me want to feel something. Maybe pain. Maybe guilt. Maybe the way someone's heart stops beating long after I've strangled them.
Well, the last one didn't work. My cellmate stopped breathing an hour ago, and I don't feel any different.
Where is the remorse, the worry of taking one's life?
His once aggressive blue eyes are now filled with something...broken.
Every time I feel like I'm back to normal, pressure builds in my head, and the blip in my brain restarts.
Fear... something I don't often feel. Being confident and powerful in my head has always gotten me through the day. I'm terrified of how I'm feeling.
Is this what it's like to be afraid of your own thoughts?
"Aria. To me, you're a strong, independent, intelligent woman who takes bullshit from no one. I need you to remember that when you feel like you're lost." I watch him with tears streaming down my cheeks; my lips move, but no words come out. "And I'm not saying all of this because you mean so much to me. I'm saying it because it's true. A lot of people look up to you, me included."
"But..." My throat tightens, my free hand grabbing his sleeve. "I am lost."
"Are you? Are you sure you aren't just hiding? If you were lost, then you wouldn't know unless you were found."
Stop starring at me.
She wishes that was what I was doing.
No, my dear, darling, beautiful doctor. I'm calculating how easy it will be be to make you disappear, to keep you forever, while also making you fall for me, and smile at me the way you are right now.
My leash is gone. I don't know what it is, but I can feel myself slipping so fucking fast, and the only thing keeping me grounded is this human being with a heartbeat.
Rights and wrongs are not solely defined by victors.
People are not just victims or assailants. They are all people.
We're alike, we can only be convinced by ourselves.
And loners always push away other loners.
When you're lost, where you stand is the right direction.
No matter what people say, you should always be on your side.
There's no salvation unless you save yourself.
There is no greater repellant than anger
A world of words that tells no story
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