I cross my arms. "It was a two minute conversation." "I don't think a smaller time frame makes it less unwise." He furrows his eyebrows and touches the corner of my bruised eye with his fingertips. My head jerks back, but he doesn't take his hand away. Instead he sighs. "You know, if you could just learn to attack first, you might do better." "Attack first?" I say. "How will that help?" "You're fast. If you can get a few good hits in before they know what's going on, you could win." He shrugs, and his hand falls.

I have done bad things. I can't take them back, and they are part of who I am. Most of the time, they seem like the only thing I am.

I might be in love with you." He smiles a little. "I'm waiting until I'm sure to tell you, though.

He should be the one to die, part of me thinks. I don't want to lose him, another part argues. I don't know which part to believe.

Sometimes drastic change requires drastic measures.

And I provide much- needed eye candy.

We could visit him," suggests Will. "But what would we say? 'I didn't know you that well, but I'm sorry you got stabbed in the eye'?