Any life worth living comes with a little risk, a little pain.

Make threats instead. Therapy doesn’t suit you.

They see your mask, and they want to believe it’s real. I see your mask, and I want to know what you’re hiding.

I shouldn’t say anything. Questions have a way of ricocheting, and Ra knows I don’t want to give any answers.

I suppose you could kill them all, but sooner or later, your murder habit is going to catch up with you.

Mercy has a way of retaliating.

War doesn’t care who gets caught in the middle. War has no rules.

I kiss him. First tender, then hungry. Crush my lips against him with all the questions unanswered and all the paths untaken.

It ends how it began.