Please. They're Like The Cult Of Four.

It Doesn't Take Skill To Stand In A Place Were No Bullets Find You, Or To Fire Into The Dark And Hit A Man You Didn't See.

I Used To Go Outside Every Day And Invent These Elaborate Worlds And Scenarios In My Head, And When I Grew Too Old For Playing Pretend, I Started To Write Everything Down Instead.

I Think He Came To Die With Me," I Say. I Clamp My Hand Over My Mouth To Stifle A Sob. If I Can Keep Breathing, I Can Stop Crying. I Didn't Need Or Want Him To Die With Me. I Wanted To Keep Him Safe. What An Idiot, I Think, But My Heart Isn't In It. "that's Ridiculous," He Says. "that Doesn't Make Any Sense. He's Eighteen; He'll Find Another Girlfriend Once You're Dead. And He's Stupid If He Doesn't Know That." Tears Run Down My Cheeks, Hot At First And Then Cold. I Close My Eyes. "if You Think That's What It's About..." I Swallow Another Sob. "...you're The Stupid One.

For Someone So Small, You're Heavy, Stiff," He Mutters.

Faction Before Blood.