You are the most important thing to me now. The most important thing to me ever.

The waves of pain that had only lapped at me before now reared high up and washed over my head, pulling me under. I did not resurface.

It was sort of the pattern to my life - I'd never been strong enough to deal with the things outside my control, to attack the enemies or outrun them. To avoid the pain. Always human and weak, the only thing I'd ever been able to do was keep going. Endure. Survive.

You don’t have anything like this. For crying out loud, you only own one skirt!

I wondered – would a bullet through my temple actually kill me or just leave a really big mess for me to clean up?

You think I should be as forgiving as you are? We can’t all be saints and martyrs.

After all, what was more important, in the end, than love?