"I don't get it!" Was the retort, the response, and he took a step towards her, desperation and anger in his expression, but none of it was threatening-- He had passed the points of threats, of callous thoughts of murder, and now there was only what remained. "You come back here, you won't leave, you say you'll track me down--"

Don't you ever doubt me.

The boy gave a sound between a moan and a sob, and clenched his teeth, squeezed his hands into wrists, and he would rather have yelling, violence, emotions, if he could only understand--

"I don't get it!" he repeated, heated and small. "I don't understand any of it at all!"