“ He glanced up once, eyes bored. “Please stop talking. I’m trying to eat. ”
What about you? What do you do?” I needed to ask questions, draw him out. I needed to find out all the information I could. My voice sounded strong and smooth, but my hands were shaking. I put them in my lap so he couldn’t see.“I prey on innocent villagers and terrify their children,” he said with a nasty smile. “And sometimes when I’m feeling really evil, I read books or paint.
~ Kate Avery Ellison
I laughed under my breath, and it sounded bitter. “Listen to me. What am I talking about, worth it? Is any experience or bit of beauty worth the cost of my life? I know nothing but safety and self-preservation at all costs.”“And yet,” he said softly, “you’re risking everything to help me.
Strength?” “Safety,” I said. And in that moment I realized that I’d always equated the two in my head, but they weren’t the same thing. Sometimes people were strongest at their most vulnerable, dangerous moments.
I’d allowed myself to feel love –yes, love– for another person in a way I’d once sworn to myself I never would. I’d become completely vulnerable, and now I’d been torn apart with hurt and catapulted onto a path I might never have taken otherwise. I’d risked my life for an outsider. For a stranger. Worse, I had a feeling I was going to do it again.
