He moves like the shadows.
I hate how gracefully he carries himself, the elegance he shows even when he makes a mistake. I hate how talented he is, how dangerous he can be if he wanted to. I hate him, because he's left my past in ashes, my everything up in flames.
And I hate him even more because somehow, he has made himself my everything.
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Is surviving in the streets as an eleven year old easy?
Yes, once you get used to it.
Is being trained to kill at the age of twelve acceptable?
Yes. Better prepared now than be sorry later.
Is it okay to have your first kill at the age of thirteen?
My first kill wasn't thirteen— it was eleven. I burned someone's house down— and I don't believe they got out alive.
How does it feel to fall in love?
It is the hardest thing I have ever done.