...there Is Power In Self-sacrifice.

I Was Still Afraid Of Him, I Knew, But In A Different Way - I Was No Longer A Child, Afraid Of The Threat My Terrifying Father Posed To My Safety. I Was A Man, Afraid Of The Threat He Posed To My Character, To My Future, To My Identity.

We Are Not People Who Touch Each Other Carelessly; Every Point Of Contact Between Us Feels Important, A Rush Of Energy And Relief.

I Point At A Window To My Left, And It Explodes. Particles Of Glass Rain Over Us. ‘you’ll Have To Do Better Than That,' I Say.

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.

He Leans His Face Close To Mine And Wraps His Fingers Around My Chin. His Hand Smells Like Metal. When Was The Last Time He Held A Gun, Or A Knife?