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Image of the quote is loading... SaveSave My instincts told me that death would somehow be…different. But my rational mind reminded me that I had probably tempted fate one too many times. At least, I thought it was my rational mind. It sure seemed like the usual voice inside my head. Thank God there was only one of them. - Quote by M.A. George

My instincts told me that death would somehow be…different. But my rational mind reminded me that I had probably tempted fate one too many times. At least, I thought it was my rational mind. It sure seemed like the usual voice inside my head. Thank God there was only one of them.

M.A. George
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For someone so intuitive,” he said, shaking his head, “sometimes you only see what you expect to see.
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If by ‘foe’ you mean a brutal killer, then I suppose I’d fall into the ‘friend’ category,” I replied cynically. “Although in your case, we may have to find a secret option number three.
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Safeguard your weaknesses, for your enemy will always use them against you. But more importantly …” He raised a single bony finger, waving it rhythmically to the cadence of his words. “Safeguard your true strengths. If he knows not what you are capable of, he will always underestimate you.” He fixed his unflinching eyes on mine. “And you are not to be underestimated.
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I decided that a movie marathon was clearly in order. I tried to narrow down the options. Anything romantic was definitely out, as was anything involving space travel, kings, or handsome princes. Preferably there should be no good-looking men whatsoever, lest they remind me of Aeron. Sadly, that eliminated practically everything.
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Yeah, sure,” I scoffed. “You’re the picture of respectability and moral character…You expect me to believe you were your parents’ worst nightmare? What was your criminal act of choice—drunken bar fights? Or maybe grand theft auto? Don’t tell me you sold the crown jewels to buy drugs…It’s so disappointingly cliché.
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Aeron’s stone-faced expression cracked, as he turned to give me a dumbfounded look. Meeting his questioning eyes, I let out a little annoyed sigh, “I refuse to believe that you don’t know the meaning of ‘cojones’.”“I’m well aware of the meaning,” he raised his eyebrows, fighting back a smile. “Just a little surprised at your choice of words…”“Yeah, I can really paint a verbal picture,” I responded dryly.
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Silence upon silence, with a heaping pile of extra silence.
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I can only imagine what goes on in that head of yours…” he teased. “I assure you I haven’t taken up black magic, ritualistic sacrifice, or—”“Plushophilia?” I tagged on.“Excuse me?…” came his half-confused, half-intrigued reaction.“An obsession with stuffed animals,” I clarified. “I mean, you are a young one…”“Where did you come up with that?” He kept his hands firmly covering my eyes, but I could hear the amused smile in his voice. “Is that even a real word?”“I’m a doctor, I know these things,” I shrugged.
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