Because I am a son of the Darkness, and I knew too well there was no world in which we’d be allowed to live peacefully; no world in which the goodness wouldn’t be stolen from us at some point. So every time I touched her, every time I took her lips beneath mine, it had been desperate. If I’d lived in the present, treated it more gently, would I still have it? Or should I have held on even tighter, with claws and fists?
