It's my turn to be sheepish. Alex, I have to tell you something. Two years ago, I- I died. I broke down, and turned away, so he wouldn't see the tears. I've been so miserable.
Death is so lonely.
None of the others need anyone. You'll remember that I wasn't. I wished to see you again, to talk to you. His hand is on my shoulder. The bloodlust is rising in the pit of my stomach.