Time was such an odd thing. One moment you could talk to someone, then suddenly, they were gone.

I think I’ll just go take a shower,” I said. It wasn’t until Samuel stiffened that I remembered I’d just come out of the shower. So much for playing normal.

Being a martyr is highly overrated.

Much awkwardness ensued.

Now, I'm not very vain. If I'd ever been, making my living covered in various grease and dirt mixtures would have cured me quickly. Still, I wasn't up to facing two sexy men when I had one eye swollen mostly shut and half of my face black and blue.

Paranoia: the gift of the survivor and the burden of the overtired, stressed, and terrified.

If there was such evil in the world, was it possible that there was good, too?