by Sloane Kady
How is love measured? By how much you bleed for another person? When is it more humane to just rip each other's hearts out instead of cutting each other open with sharp words and lies? If love is measured in scars, I win. "Your dad's been in an accident, Bryce." "You're all he has, Bryce." "Do the right thing, Bryce." And I do, because I'm reluctantly good, even though my father makes me bleed.