[ There's something strange about this. A little flash of intuitive foreshadowing telling her that this is not going to go how she thinks it will go. But that doesn't matter. ]

What is there to fucking say after this long? You had front row seats. You know why any one of us would want to do this, even if we die trying. Or do you really not fucking believe we could want anything but to love you until we're nothing but extensions of you?

[ For just a moment, she'd wounded him. Left him mangled. A stone thrown at the reflection of the moon. But it feels good. ]

I fought for you. Because I didn't want to believe he fucking died for nothing. I really wanted to believe I was serving God. I wanted it to mean something.