"And then I realized; It was true. Fights were fights. Death was death. And when it was over; the meaning leaves our body like the souls of those we left behind. His lips on mine became a metaphor for death when I felt them become cold pressed against my warmth. Suddenly the bet I made with a soc didn't matter. Their boyfriend deciding to hunt me down didn't matter either, because in the end we all end up as bones or as ash. We can't fight without the souls destined to leave us; the meaning destined to leave it."