There aren't any syringes." Red Sox came over and held a sterile pack out. When she tried to take it from him, he kept a grip on the thing. "I know you'll use this wisely." "Wisely?" She snapped the syringe out of his hand. "No, I'm going to poke him in the eye with it. Because that's what they trained me to do in medical school.

The smile he gave her was wistful, just a little lift to his mouth. "You are a fighter." ""Yes. Always. And sometimes I'm a whole army.

...the only thing that had tethered her to the earth had been him and it was strange, but she felt welded to him on some core level now. He had seen her at her absolute worst, at her weakest and most insane, and he hadn't looked away. He hadn't judged and he hadn't been burned. It was as if in the heat of her meltdown they had melted together. This was more than emotion. It was a matter of soul.

I came to you, Jane. Every night this week, I came to you. I didn't want you to be alone. And I didn't want to sleep without you." -Vishous

Souls were the same. They, too, had useless baggage that impeded their proper performance, these annoying, holier-than-thou bits dangling like an appendix waiting for infection. Faith and hope and love...prudence, temperance, justice, and fortitude...all this useless clutter just packed too much damn morality into the heart, getting in the way of the soul's innate desire for malignancy.

I would hold you up. I will ever hold you up and hold you dear, lover mine.

Sorry to bother you,” Bella said over the wailing. “But she wants her daddy.