You tried to slide his original curse back onto him?” Al said in wonder. “At the restaurant? And I stopped you? Sweet mother pus bucket!” he exclaimed, and I swear, dust sifted from the ceiling. “Rachel, we have to work on this communication thing.

She's not your type. Since when do I have a type?

A compassion swirled form nowhere in the high I was lost in. She needed me. She needed me to accept her for what she was. And when I realized that I had it within myself to give her at least this small part of me, the last of my fear melted away.

He's going to hurt you," Al said, looking at Pierce. "I can take care of you, teach you to survive. Be there for you, even if you do hate me." I shivered. "I don't want him," I said, and Al turned away, seeming smaller somehow.

You try getting through the Hollows traffic with a stoned redhead hanging out the window shouting, 'I'm king of the world!' ~Lee

Happy endings were never handed out. You had to fight for them, earn them with bruised hearts and sacrifices.

Sure, it was nice now, but eventually there would be running and screaming and blood on the floor.