I have something to tell you," he says. I run my fingers along the tendons in his hand and look back at him. "I might be in love with you." He smiles a little. "I’m waiting until I’m sure to tell you, though.

I slowly realized that perfectionism just not that important. What's more important is to try to love the people around you. Whatever that means at a particular time is the best you can do.

Pride blinds people to the truth of what they are.

But maybe what I saw as fearless was actually fear under control.

It's like he knows, he knows I have a thing for her.

I get the strange urge to hit my head against the wall. Other people's sobs make me feel uncomfortable.

The man running toward me is not a man, he is a boy. A shaggy-haired boy with a crease between his eyebrows. Will. Dull-eyed and mindless, but still Will. He stops running and mirrors me, his feet planted and his gun up. In an instant, I see his finger poised over the trigger and hear the bullet slide into the chamber, and I fire. My eyes squeezed shut. Can't breathe. The bullet hit him in the head. I know because that's where I aimed it.