I Am His, And He Is Mine,

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.

That’s One Way Of Looking At It. I Prefer To Look At It Another Way—which Is That If They Are Persistent Enough, Even Tiny Drops Of Water, Over Time, Can Change The Rock Forever. And It Will Never Change Back.

You Don’t Believe Things Because They Make Your Life Better, You Believe Them Because They’re True.

Drink This," She Says. "what Is It?" My Throat Feels Swollen. I Swallow Hard. "what's Going To Happen?" "can't Tell You That. Just Trust Me." I Press Air From My Lungs And Tip The Contents Of The Vial Into My Mouth. My Eyes Close.

Someone Shouts, "enough!" And I Think Too Much And Nothing At All.