Michael doesn't flinch. 'You can't know,' he says quietly, 'how much you truly love something until it's gone.' 'That's not fair,' I say as I tremble. 'No one said it would be. He tests you, Benji, and he tests Calliel for a supremely simple reason. ...
I can't do it. I can't get into a philosophical debate with an archangel, knowing how ridiculous it is and how unprepared I am.
The bastard. How dare he? I was drowning in a fucking river that he was still attempting to save me from, and he was telling me he was going to push me back in and hold me under. My father's death had nearly destroyed me. Cal's death would finish me.
How do you say what's in your heart if your heart is something you haven't known for years? How do you give yourself completely when all you've done is bury yourself in grief? How do you come back from the dar when it's all you can remember?
