The wind is knocked out of me; and when I look up, I see Nine spitting blood out. He's grinning. "Are you crazy?" I ask. "You're enjoying this?" "I've been locked up for over a year. This is the best day of my life!

I'll come back to you," I say. "I promise you, if it's the last thing I do, I'll come back to you." Her face is buried in my neck. She nods. "I'll count the minutes until you do." she says.

That ugly freak has spent so much time in my head, I should be charging him rent." -Four

Sam picks the stone up and clenches his entire body in deep concentration. Nothing happens. " Oh come on," he says to the stone. " I promise to use it for the power of good. No girls' locker rooms, I swear.

Images flicker, each one bringing its own sorrow or its own smile. Sometimes both. At the very worst, an impenetrable and sightless black and at best, a happiness so bright that it hurts the eyes to see, coming and going on some unseen projector perpetually turned by an invisible hand. One, then another. The hollow click of the shutter. Now stop. Freeze this frame. Pluck it down and hold it close and be damned by what you see. Henri always said: the price of a memory is the memory if the sorrow it brings.

My experiences have taught me that things rarely improve with a simple change of scenery.

I don't know why I still feel this pit in my stomach whenever I get a moment to think. I know what the pit is, too; I feel lonely. But I'm not alone, I keep telling myself.