There Are No Safe Rooms, No Safe

When You're A Teenager, Everything Seems Like The End Of The World, And I Don't Think That's Necessarily A Silly Thing. You're Waking Up And Becoming Aware That The World Has Problems And Those Problems Affect You, Whereas When You're Young They Don't Seem To Affect You That Much Even If You're Aware Of Them. This Dystopian Trend Picks Up On That Little Part Of Your Life Where Everything Feels Really Extreme And It Honors That Part Of Your Life And Says, "yeah. It Is The End Of The World. Look At It."

You Think My First Instinct Is To Protect You. Because You're Small, Or A Girl, Or A Stiff. But You're Wrong." He Leans His Face Close To Mine And Wraps His Fingers Around My Chin. His Hand Smells Like Metal. When Was The Last Time He Held A Gun, Or A Knife? My Skin Tingles At The Point Of Contact, Like He's Transmitting Electricity Through His Skin. "my First Instinct Is To Push You Until You Break, Just To See How Hard I Have To Press." He Says, His Fingers Squeezing At The Word Break. My Body Tenses At The Edge In His Voice, So I Am Coiled As Tight As A Spring, And I Forget To Breathe.

They All Laugh. We All Laugh. And It Occurs To Me That I Might Be Meeting Tobias's True Faction. They Are Not Characterized By A Particular Virtue. They Claim All Colors, All Activities, All Virtues, And All Flaws As Their Own.

Noise And Activity Are The Refuges Of The Bereaved And The Guilty.

She Can't Possibly Be Me, Though She Moves When I Move