“I keep expecting to wake up and find it was all a bad dream. Alina will be alive, I won’t be afraid of the dark, Monsters won’t be walking the streets of Dublin, And I won’t have this terrible fear that tomorrow dawn just won’t come.” —Mac’s journal
Nobody looks good in their darkest hour. But it’s those hours that make us what we are. We stand strong, or we cower. We emerge victorious, tempered by our trials, or fractured by a permanent, damning fault line.
