We believe in shouting for those who can only whisper, in defending those who cannot defend themselves.

I take a deep breath. I'm not sure where that swell of desperation came from, but know that I've acknowledge it, it's impossible to ignore, like a living thing has awakened from a long sleep inside me. It writhes in my stomach and throat. I need to leave. I need the truth.

It is impossible to erase my choices.

His fingers leave streaks of cold on my skin, invisible to the eye, and I think about wrapping his shirt around my fist and pulling him in to kiss me; I think about pressing myself against him, but I can't, because all our secrets would keep a space between us.

It doesn't take skill to stand in a place were no bullets find you, or to fire into the dark and hit a man you didn't see.

Sorry, am I being rude?" she asks. "I'm used to saying whatever is on my mind. Mom used to say that politeness is deception in pretty packaging

We believe in shouting for those who can only whisper, in defending those who cannot defend themselves.