I'm bleeding, I'm not just making conversation.

You go to work the next day pretending nothing happened. Your co-workers ask if everything's okay and you tell them you're just tired. And you're trying to smile. And they're trying to smile.

Sorry about the blood in your mouth. I wish it was mine. I couldn't get the boy to kill me, but I wore his jacket for the longest time.

Oh, the things we invent when we are scared and want to be rescued.

Moonlight making crosses on your body, and me putting my mouth on every one.

I woke up in the morning and I didn’t want anything, didn’t do anything, couldn’t do it anyway, just lay there listening to the blood rush through me and it never made any sense, anything.

This is where the evening splits in half, Henry, love or death. Grab an end, pull hard, and make a wish.