He loves you, really he does. He'd love you even if it destroyed him. He matches you.

I could be compassionate, if I wanted. Metias would be merciful. But I was never as good a person as my brother.

We're in this together, right?" he whispers. "You and me? You want to be here, yeah?" There's guilt in his questions. "Yes," I reply. "I chose this." Day pulls me close enough for our noses to touch. "I love you.

Please don't take him away from this world. Please don't let him die here in my arms, not after everything we've been through together, not after You've taken so many others. Please, I beg You, let him live. I am willing to sacrifice anything to make this happen- I'm willing to do anything You ask. Maybe you'll laugh at me for such a naive promise, but I mean it in earnest, and I don't care if it makes no sense or seems impossible. Let him live. Please. I can't bear this a second time. Tell me there is still good in this world. Tell me there is still hope for all of us.

I'd once been fascinated by his legend - all the stories I'd heard before I met him. Now I can feel that same sense of fascination returning. I picture his face, so beautiful even after pain and torture and grief, his blue eyes bright and sincere. I'm ashamed to admit that I enjoyed my brief time with him in his prison cell. His voice can make me forget about all the details running through my mind, bringing with it emotions of desire, or fear instead, sometimes even anger, but always triggering something. Something that wasn't there before.

Few people ever kill for the right reasons, June. Most do it for the wrong reasons. I just hope you never have to be in either category.

I started writing seriously when I was a teenager, around 14 years old.