Young Writers Society

"I am not wrong, you know," he said quietly.
"You are not right either."
A pause.
"So where does that leave us?"
He looked at him softly with a smile so condescending; it would have put his father's to shame.
"I suppose this is what they call an impasse."

"What happened?"
His voice was quiet and exhausted and she wasn't even sure if the question he had posed was even meant for her.
"We changed."
He threw a look at her and huffed in amusement.
She raiaed an eyebrow, "What you don't believe people can change?"
"I don't actually. We are who we are. And no matter how many fancy lies we tell ourselves, at the end of the day, strip down all those pretences and we are still the exact same person we were the day before. A tiger doesn't change her stripes, sweetheart. You should know better."

"From where I see it, we have two options. Either I kill you here and we end this game for once and for all. Or I let you run back to your precious little beach, so you can concoct a brand new plan with your little crew and I get the pleasure of watching it fall apart once again."
His smile was soft and calm and there was something manic behind it
"Do I get a say?"
"Not really. Although it would be very easy, you know - killing you. With you gone, Will would give up in a second and James would be careless, reckless, falling prey to his own maddening cycle of grief and anger. A single shot to the chest and your little team will crumble from within. "
He laughed. "Its funny, you know? They might need Will to lead them, but they need you to survive. Without ever realizing, you have become the queen of the game, carefully balancing yourself between all the black and white pieces, maneuvering all the moves from the very beginning. You are their queen Sara, and killing you would end the game too soon. But we can't have that, can we?" He smiled, "We are just getting started."