A War Like Ours

She looked so small, sitting alone. Why was she crying? What happened to her? Her chest heaved, but no sound came. It would have been better if she did make a sound and let it all out. Crying silently was the loudest and saddest of all cries. It was gut-wrenching, agonizing…beautiful. I was disgusted with myself for thinking that and yet…

Yes, that man had turned me into a psycho.

“Human. I’m tired of not being one.”

“Well, then I hate to break it to you, but you’ve already accomplished that. You are human. Flawed and broken. People think it’s the monsters who do bad things, but it’s not. It’s people like us. All the monsters ever do is live in storybooks. Or in closets. It’s the humans who destroy things. Life isn’t black and white, James. It’s all fucking gray.”

you feel that?” I whispered and paused for her to feel her own pulse echoing on my skin. “It’s not dead. It’s beating. Hard and fast. It’s very much alive, Madison. Like me, maybe you’re lying about certain things, too.”

She shivered, but her voice remained resolute and somehow belligerent. “A beating heart doesn’t mean that I’m alive.”

“No, it only means you want to be. It’s the nature of all living things. They want to live, break free. They want a miracle. It’s called hope. Hope that one day something will transform our life, transform us as we know it.”