"Honestly, it turned my stomach when you mentioned that you'd thought about blowing things up," he said, turning towards me in the darkness of the car.
"It should." My answer was easy and fast. "If it doesn't turn your stomach, then you've lost something. . . something that's important to have."
I thought about the girl, abused, intentionally isolated, eleven years old and peeling away her own skin under quality professional care.
I have lost something.