“How do you file a restraining order against sadness?”
“My two best friends are dead, which means they're great listeners now, but lousy as far as support goes.”
“Otherwise I'll do something that I won't be able to live with. And that's important to me, being able to live with my actions. My thoughts are a different story. They've my own and they don't hurt anyone but me.”
“And while I tell him all my thoughts, I don't always share my secrets.”
“Love fills all the gaps in our souls.”
“You'll love him. Or maybe you'll just love him a time or two.”
“She's unhurt—or at least not bleeding on the oustide.”
“Please don't' ask me how I feel about it. If I had to pick a word, I'd say homicidal.”
“I think my invisibility cloak just failed.”
“You're on a blind date. The only other questions is: Why aren't you drinking heavily?”
“If the world ends tomorrow, understand that I regret saying no.”
“I've heard the story about the woman who opened the box and let havoc grab a choke hold on the world.”
“He reels me in, cups my face with both hands, and becomes my whole world. This is a kiss--maybe the last one we'll ever know, so we stay there forever, warm and safe. When he pulls away, something is lost. I think it's my heart.”
“It's satisfying. It yields immediate results. Something is dirty. Then it's not.”
“When I awake, the world is still gone.”
“I have two choices: attend my sister's dinner party or tie a plastic sack around my mother's head until she runs out of ngagging. I choose the evil that doesn't come witha felony conviction.”
“Can I ask you something?
Boxers. Briefs exacerbate my claustrophobia.”
“Five years, my family thinks it's time I moved on. I'd like to move on with a non-asshole”
“Are you menstruating?
what?
You're angry. Women are often angry when they menstruate. It is the hormones.”
“It's not just college grades that fall in a curve. Human decency is bell-shaped, with some of us slopping over the edges. Saints on one end, sinners on the other.”
“I pray to a God I don't really have faith in just so I feel like I have company.”
“Do you realize you're talking to yourself?
Yes.
It's good that you know the difference.”
“You're not dead.
I'm not dead.
Why? How?
Dying wasn't on my list.”
“Our new intern sorts pot shards like some kind of savant. The other interns call himi Rain Man.”
“If you kill him, call me. I'm bound by doctor client privilege.
Really?
No, but the courts make exceptions for assholes.”
“Do you want me, too?
Yes. And no.
I'll take that. For now.”
“Just a cold. And I think maybe I'm pregnant, because I'm always riding the porcelain bus, or thinking about it.”
“Just say the word and I'll make him stay.
I have to do it.
There's no have to. Not even now.”
“The fact is I am getting a little afraid of John.”
“Live a little Connor, life is too short," I said as i stared out into the moonlit water. He sighed and sat down next to me.
We sat in silence for a moment, and I was feeling somewhat emotional; I'm blaming the wine, when I started to speak.
"It was my sixteenth birthday when I was diagnosed with cancer." I felt him look at me as I just stared ahead listening to the whispers of the ocean. "Hey, happy sweet sixteen, guess what, you have cancer." I felt the tears starting to sting my eyes.”
“Mocking someone else to make us seem deep or intelligent only proves the exact opposite.”
“He always felt different once he was across the river. This was the real, old, deep country, now. Home country. The cabins looked different to him, a little older and poorer and simpler, a little more homelike; the trees and rocks seemed to come differently out of the ground; the air smelled different.”
“After a while Mary said, “Zsadist?”
“Yeah?”
“What are those markings?”
His frowned and flicked his eyes over to her, thinking, as if she didn’t know? But then . . . well, she had been a human. Maybe she didn’t. “They’re slave bands. I was . . . a slave.”
“Did it hurt when they were put on you?”
“Yes.”
“Did the same person who cut your face give them to you?”
“No, my owner’s hellren did that. My owner . . . she put the bands on me. He was the one who cut my face.”
“How long were you a slave?”
“A hundred years.”
“How did you get free?”
“Phury. Phury got me out. That’s how he lost his leg.”
“Were you hurt while you were a slave?”
Z swallowed hard. “Yes.”
“Do you still think about it?”
“Yes.” He looked down at his hands, which suddenly were in pain for some reason. Oh, right. He’d made two
fists and was squeezing them so tightly his fingers were about to snap off at the knuckles.
“Does slavery still happen?”
“No. Wrath outlawed it. As a mating gift to me and Bella.”
“What kind of slave were you?”
Zsadist shut his eyes. Ah, yes, the question he didn’t want to answer. For a while it was all he could do to force himself to stay in the chair. But then, in a falsely level voice, he said,
“I was a blood slave. I was used by a female for blood.”
The quiet after he spoke bore down on him, a tangible weight.
“Zsadist? Can I put my hand on your back?”
His head did something that was evidently a nod, because Mary’s gentle palm came down lightly on his
shoulder blade. She moved it in a slow, easy circle.
“Those are the right answers,” she said. “All of them.”
He had to blink fast as the fire in the furnace’s window became blurry. “You think?” he said hoarsely.
“No. I know.”
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