We're fumbling in the dark, but at least we're in motion.
God has made us study partner. We need to talk about our project.
What's the point of trying to fix a world we're so briefly in?
One mistake, one brief lapse of my new found judgement-that's all it took to unravel everything. What a massive responsibility, being a moral creature.
I notice faint scars on her wrists and forearms, thin lines too symmetrical to be accidents.
I can no longer believe in any voodoo spell or laboratory virus. This is something deeper, darker. This comes from the cosmos, from the stars, or the unknown blackness behind them. The shadows in God's boarded-up basement.