Shh,” I say. “Arms around me.” Obediently, he slips both arms around my waist. I smile at the wall. I am not enjoying this. I am not, not even a little bit, no.

How have I never realized before that for all the strong, kind parts of him, there are also hurting, broken parts?

I want people to come away from my book with questions. Questions about virtue and goodness. Not answers.

But when you kill someone you love, the hard part is never over. It just gets easier to distract yourself from what you've done.

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

Morning," I say. "Shh," she says. "If you don't acknowledge it, maybe it will go away.

The battle we are fighting is not against a particular group. It is against human nature - or at least what it has become.