34

He lifts his hands and studies them under the gloomy light as if it’s the first time he’s seen them. “The world is painted in different colors, depending on the angle you see it from. Every single ideal can be turned monstrous when it’s pushed to the limits. I’m the limits. I’m the edges humans are warned to stay away from but are attracted to anyway, because it’s just so different from what they know. And because I’m permanently on the edge, I need constant stimuli to remain functioning. Fighting, hunting, and being a doctor-in-the-making are those stimuli.” So that’s his obsession. His way of driving away the emptiness is through unconventional methods. I understand why he has to do this, though I don’t agree with it. His view of the world is fascinating, and if I didn’t want to escape him, I could listen to him talk about it all day. “Why medicine, then? Its codes imply that you should save people.” “And I do, after I see inside them.” His lips curve in a cruel smirk. “Look at your