You Look Older.” “yes, Well. The Passage

I Can't Tell Him I Need Him. I Can't Need Him, Period -- Or Really, We Can't Need Each Other, Because Who Knows How Long Either Of Us Will Last In This War?

Noise And Activity Are The Refuges Of The Bereaved And The Guilty.

What Did You Do?” I Mumble. He Is Just A Few Feet Away From Me Now, But Not Close Enough To Hear Me. As He Passes Me He Stretches Out His Hand. He Wraps It Around My Palm And Squeezes. Squeezes, Then Lets Go. His Eyes Are Bloodshot; He Is Pale. “what Did You Do?” This Time The Question Tears From My Throat Like A Growl. I Throw Myself Toward Him, Struggling Against Peter’s Grip, Though His Hands Chafe. “what Did You Do?” I Scream. “you Die, I Die Too” Tobias Looks Over His Shoulder At Me. “i Asked You Not To Do This. You Made Your Decision. These Are The Repercussions.

Okay, Okay.” I Set My Hand On Top Of His And Guide It To My Chest, So It’s Right Over My Heart. “feel My Heartbeat. Can You Feel It?” “yes.” “feel How Steady It Is?” “it’s Fast.” “yes, Well, That Has Nothing To Do With The Box.” I Wince As Soon As I’m Done Speaking. I Just Admitted To Something. Hopefully He Doesn’t Realize That.

Grief Is Not As Heavy As Guilt, But It Takes More Away From You.