What Good Is A Body If I

Are You Defending Marcie?” He Shook His Head. “i Don’t Need To. She Handled Herself. You, On The Other Hand…” I Pointed At The Door. “out.

She Likes You, She Just Doesn't Understand You.

What Little Light Was Left Inside Me Flickered Out.

You Want Me To Come Clean, I Will. I'll Tell You Everything. Who I Am And What I've Done. Every Last Detail. I'll Dig It All Up, But You Have To Ask. You Have To Want It. You Can See Who I Was, Or You Can See Who I Am Now. I'm Not Good," He Said, Piercing Me With Eyes That Absorbed All Light But Reflected None, "but I Was Worse.

Patch Was Dressed In The Usual: Black Shirt, Black Jeans And A Thin Silver Necklace That Flashed Against His Dark Complexion. His Sleeves Were Pushed Up His Forearms, And I Could See His Muscles Working As He Punched Buttons. He Was Tall And Lean And Hard, And I Wouldn't Have Been Surprised If Under His Clothes He Bore Several Scars, Souvenirs From Street Fights And Other Reckless Behavior. Not That I Wanted A Look Under His Clothes.