I see a kind of thirst in her expression, the same one I saw when she told me about her brother in the back room of the tattoo parlor. Before the attack simulation I might have called it a thirst for justice, or even revenge, but now I am able to identify it as a thirst for blood. And even as it frightens me, I understand it. Which should probably frighten me even more.

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My skepticism is strong, but my curiosity is stronger.

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A brave man acknowledges the strength of others.

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I wonder if fears ever really go away, or if they just lose their power over us.

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Sometimes drastic change requires drastic measures.

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Just as I have insisted on his worth, he has always insisted on my strength, insisted that my capacity is greater than I believe. And I know, without being told, that's what love does, when it's right-it makes you more than you were, more than you thought you could be. This is right.

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If I let a little of the emotion out, all of it will come out, and it will never end.

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Maybe there's more we all could have done, but we just have to let the guilt remind us to do better next time.

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The fire, the fire. It rages within, a campfire and then an inferno, and my body is its fuel. I feel it racing through me, eating away at the weight. There is nothing that can kill me now; I am powerful and invincible and eternal.

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The truth has a way of changing people's plans.

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