"We head north on the interstate. The radio is on, playing something classical, but neither of us is really listening. He keeps his eyes on the road; I look out the window without paying much attention to what I'm seeing. We don't talk, nor do we brush hands like we usually do when we're in the car. I'm afraid I'll start to weep if I so much as open my mouth. "

"'What we do will be permanent. These are not just vows. We are binding our souls together.'

'My Erastes, our souls are already bound.'

'They will be more so, after this.'"

"We explode as one, we cry out as one, we burn together and are One."

"I'm still crying when he comes into the bedroom. I must have gotten loud. I was trying to keep my sobbing quiet. I don't want to burden him with this, not when he's hurting, too."

"I didn't want this to happen. I didn't want our last night together to be spent in tears."

"'You're so beautiful like this,' he says, a wistful tone creeping into his voice. 'This moment should last forever. I want to remember you exactly like this.'"

"Beloved, I am a dead end for you."

"A lump begins to build in my throat. I swallow it. Hard."

"'We wed our souls this Midsummer.' I've been saying that in protest a lot these past few days, albeit mostly to myself."

"The first lash lands. I feel my flesh rip apart in a blaze of agony. It matches the pain in my heart."

"I will no longer wake up by his side each morning, my wrist bound to his. Instead, I will be walking past my memories every day on my way to classes. I have no idea if they will seem a blessing, in my exile, or a torment. No doubt they will be a mixture of both, just like everything else about this relationship; only without him delivering it, the torment will no longer be sweet."

"We cling to each other. Afternoon sunlight lands on our skin, taunting us."

"'Goodbye, my beloved.'

He gets up from my narrow bed. It only takes him three steps to leave the room. He closes the door behind him, leaving me in twilit darkness.I am alone."

"After Erastes closed the door behind him, I continued crying into my pillow until I had no more energy for it. I cried myself to sleep that night without ever leaving my room."

"Meanwhile, the pain in my chest never got eased at all. At least I seemed to be in no danger of dying, given my normal heartbeat, and the lack of any indication that there was something actually wrong with my heart or lungs, although nothing the doctor did seemed to be of very much help, either. So much for the depression theory; or maybe antidepressants simply couldn't help the form of melancholy that had settled into me, seeping into the very fibers of my body."

"A faint leitmotif of memory in my ears sang to me of love, death, and transcendence.

I wondered what it would be like to fall asleep on the steps, and never wake up. Dying of cold exposure was supposed to be one of the more peaceful ways to die, or so I'd read at some point."

"The wind came gusting out of nowhere, landing on my face full on and drawing tears from my eyes.

"Damn you," I muttered. "I can't do it, but I can at least think about it, can't I?"

And then I wept. Again."

"The counselor's face had, if I recall correctly, turned an interesting shade of white. Perhaps I am misremembering; I am trying to recollect a minor incident that occurred a long time ago, and the mind can play tricks with memory. Still, I remember milk-white skin, and a hint of sweat, which would be odd, because the room was not hot."

"Such a hard decision to make, almost as difficult as a decision to wear boots when walking in snow."