The Lessons Never Learned (The War Eternal, #2)

by Rob J. Hayes

I've heard people talk about hell as though it is some place that awaits them when they die. A land of eternal torture for those who have committed the worst of atrocities. They're wrong. Life is hell. Living is hell. And there is no greater torment than the ones we fashion for ourselves.

There is a power in spoken words; saying something aloud makes it more real somehow, releasing a thought to the world and claiming it as your own. By saying those words aloud, I made them a promise, an oath I would keep no matter the cost.

Routine is the death of progress

A baby's face is a strange thing; to an adult it can look as though a hundred emotions are passing across that face in an instant, yet the reality is the child is probably just trying to pass gas.

Truth is a prison. One that sits behind us our entire lives, just waiting for us to step inside its barred domain. I have heard people say that the truth can set you free. Somewhat ironically, that's a bloody lie. The truth locks you in, determines a set way of thinking, of feeling, of believing. The truth is the opposite of freedom. Lies, on the other hand, can be whatever we want them to be. Lies can free us from a burden that truth would bury us with. Lies can ease a pain that truth would cause to rot and fester. Lies can make a point, where truth would just expose us for the hypocrites we are, a lesson all parents know well. The world is founded on lie, upon lie, upon lie. But the truth is always there, just waiting for an opportunity to tear down everything we have built.

You may wonder why I bring up the matter of war while talking about my first few weeks with Silva. A new relationship is a lot like war. Two kingdoms meeting. Borders drawn up, lines in the dirt where sides should not cross. Then the testing of those borders, prodding to find the other's weaknesses. Pushing against them harder and harder to see just how far those lines can bend before they break.