I start trying to stay unconscious. The problem with this is that no amount of willpower can change the reality.

You've been captive for so long that you don't even realize you want freedom anymore.

I don't dare touch her. Loss is a knowledge I'm sorry to have. Perhaps the only thing worse than experiencing it, is watching it replay anew in someone else--all the awful stages picking up like a chorus that has to be sung.

Good night, sweetheart," he says. "Good bye, sweetheart," I say. And it's so casual, so innocent that he doesn't suspect a thing.

Lovers are weapons, but love is a wound.

I've done it all before, I tell myself, and I can do it again. Trust is the strongest weapon.

And if I have to die trying, I will get out of here.