The Gun Goes Off. I Fall.

That Quality Frightens Me Now, Because I Know What He Told Me: That I Was Broken, That I Was Worthless, That I Was Nothing. How Many Of Those Things Did He Make Me Believe?

Looking At Her Is Like Waking Up.

My Father Has A Way Of Persuading People Without Charm That Has Always Confused Me. He States His Opinions As If They’re Facts, And Somehow His Complete Lack Of Doubt Makes You Believe Him. That Quality Frightens Me Now, Because I Know What He Told Me: That I Was Broken, That I Was Worthless, That I Was Nothing. How Many Of Those Things Did He Make Me Believe?

When I Look At Him, I Don't See The Cowardly Young Man Who Sold Me Out To Jeanine Matthews, And I Don't Hear The Excuses He Gave Afterward. When I Look At Him, I See The Boy Who Held My Hand In The Hospital When Our Mother Broke Her Wrist And Told Me It Would Be All Right. I See The Brother Who Told Me To Make My Own Choices, The Night Before The Choosing Ceremony. I Think Of All The Remarkable Things He Is--smart And Enthusiastic And Observant, Quiet And Earnest And Kind.

No Selfishness Or Insecurity Kept Him From Seeing The Full Extent Of Her Goodness, As It So Often Does With The Rest Of Us. That Kind Of Love May Only Be Possible In Abnegation. I Do Not Know.