Caleb runs up to me and folds me carefully in his arms. I breathe a sigh of relief. I thought I had gotten to the point where I didn’t need my brother anymore, but I don’t think such a point actually exists.

Someone shouts, "Enough!" and I think too much and nothing at all.

Not writing is as important as writing - go out into the world and remember how interesting it, and the people in it, are.

You won," Four mutters. "Stop." I wipe the sweat from my forehead. He stares at me. His eyes are too wide; they look alarmed.

My problem might be that even if I did go home, I wouldn’t belong there, among people who give without thinking and care without trying.

I understand why she did all those things, but that doesn't mean we aren't still broken.

I feel the monster of grief again, writhing in the empty space where my heart and stomach used to be. I gasp, pressing both palms to my chest. Now the monstrous thing has its claws around my throat, squeezing my airway. I twist and put my head between my knees, breathing until the strangled feeling leaves me.