“So you don't build a ramp. You don't visit her in her jet, and when you do have a physical contact, it's out in the open where it's safe. And when she rolls away from you in tears, you let her go, thinking whatever she wants to think, because that's better than admitting to her that you're too weak to feel safe with your own arm. Then, alone in the dark of a private jet, you smash your fist furiously against the wall until your knuckles are raw and bloody, but you don't care, because even though you can feel the pain, you know they're not your knuckles after all.”
Book:UnWholly
