Girl talk. That thing I've always been so bad at.
I killed you. And you. And you.
if he goes and dies on me now, I know I'll go completely insane.
The anguish I always feel when she's in pain wells up in my chest and threatens to register on my face.
Better not to give in to it.
The pain over my heart returns, and from it I imagine tiny fissures spreading out into my body. Through my torso, down my arms and legs, over my face, leaving it crisscrossed with cracks. One good jolt...and I could shatter into strange razor-sharp shards.