“Aaron?” I say, still watching the scenery fly by. I hear the small hitch in his breath. The hesitation. It’s the first time I’ve used his first name so casually. “Yes?” he says. “I want you to know,” I tell him, “that I don’t think you’re crazy.” “What?” He startles. “I don’t think you’re crazy.” The world is blurring away as I watch it through the window. “And I don’t think you’re a psychopath. I also don’t think you’re a sick, twisted monster. I don’t think you’re a heartless murderer, and I don’t think you deserve to die, and I don’t think you’re pathetic. Or stupid. Or a coward. I don’t
...more
