I Suppose A Fire That Burns That

You're More Than Dauntless," He Says In A Low Voice. "but If You Want To Be Just Like Them, Hurling Yourself Into Ridiculous Situations For No Reason And Retaliating Against Your Enemies Without Any Regard For What's Ethical, Go Right Ahead. I Thought You Were Better Than That, But Maybe I Was Wrong.

May The Peace Of God Be With You," She Says, Her Voice Low, "even In The Midst Of Trouble." "why Would It?" I Say Softly, So No One Else Can Hear. "after All I've Done..." "it Isn't About You," She Says. "it Is A Gift. You Cannot Earn It, Or It Ceases To Be A Gift.

I Cross My Arms. "it Was A Two Minute Conversation." "i Don't Think A Smaller Time Frame Makes It Less Unwise." He Furrows His Eyebrows And Touches The Corner Of My Bruised Eye With His Fingertips. My Head Jerks Back, But He Doesn't Take His Hand Away. Instead He Sighs. "you Know, If You Could Just Learn To Attack First, You Might Do Better." "attack First?" I Say. "how Will That Help?" "you're Fast. If You Can Get A Few Good Hits In Before They Know What's Going On, You Could Win." He Shrugs, And His Hand Falls.

But When You Kill Someone You Love, The Hard Part Is Never Over. It Just Gets Easier To Distract Yourself From What You've Done.

He Smiles In My Memory. A Curled Lip. Straight Teeth. Light In His Eyes. Laughing, Teasing, More Alive In Memory Than I M In Reality. It Was Him Or Me. I Chose Me. But I Feel Dead Too.