What?" I Ask. "i'm Developing A Theory."

Life's Something We Already Understand. Death Is A Mystery.

We Kiss Again And This Time, It Feels Familiar. I Know Exactly How We Fit Together, His Arm Around My Waist, My Hands On His Chest, The Pressure Of His Lips On Mine. We Have Each Other Memorized.

And I'm The Kind Of Person Who Does Not Let Inconsequential Things Like Boys And Near Death Experiences Stop Her.

You Think My First Instinct Is To Protect You. Because You're Small, Or A Girl, Or A Stiff. But You're Wrong." 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? My Skin Tingles At The Point Of Contact, Like He's Transmitting Electricity Through His Skin. "my First Instinct Is To Push You Until You Break, Just To See How Hard I Have To Press." He Says, His Fingers Squeezing At The Word Break. My Body Tenses At The Edge In His Voice, So I Am Coiled As Tight As A Spring, And I Forget To Breathe.

How Is It I Know This Little About The Boy Who Says He Loves Me -- The Boy Whose Real Name Is Powerful Enough To Keep Us Alive In A Train Car Full Of Enemies?