What do I believe? I do not know; I do not know; I do not know.

Writing means not just staring ugliness in the face, but finding a way to embrace it.

If I don't survive," I say, "tell Tobias I didn't want to leave him.

He stares at me, and I don't look away. He isn't a dog, but the same rules apply. Looking away is submissive. Looking him in the eye is a challenge. It's my choice.

I hear my heartbeat. I have been looking at him too long, but then, he has been looking back, and I feel like we are both trying to say something the other can't hear, though I could be imagining it. Too long - and now even longer, my heart even louder, his tranquil eyes swallowing me whole.

You chose us. Now we have to choose you.

Don't you dare try to apologize." His voice shakes. "This is not something you can bandage with a word or two and some hugging, or something.