I get the text and jump up, shifting and bolting there. Staying in my wolf form, I break down the door and rip him off of her. I stand above her protectively and snarl, wanting nothing more than to rip this guy's throat out.
I'm never what I like I'm double sided And I just can't hide I kind of like it When I make you cry 'Cause I'm twisted up, twisted up Inside
I cautiously inch forward, terrified of scaring her further, "S'okay, Em. I'm sorry. I just... you know what he did to everyone back there, and I can't bare the thought of what he almost did to you."
I'm never what I like I'm double sided And I just can't hide I kind of like it When I make you cry 'Cause I'm twisted up, twisted up Inside
Grief, I’ve learned, is really just love. It’s all the love you want to give, but cannot. All that unspent love gathers up in the corners of your eyes, the lump in your throat, and in that hollow part of your chest. Grief is just love with no place to go. — Jamie Anderson