"...I killed my father," he says, "because I thought it was the only way I could be safe. I thought... that nothing would ever be as hard or as scary as that, and as soon as I did it, I could go out into the rest of the world, and he wouldn't be there to hurt me anymore, and I could - live however people do. I taught myself bloodbending in secret because it was the only way I could think of to protect myself from him. And that part worked fine. He's dead now. But."

A short pause.

"It wasn't as simple as I thought. I don't have my father to be afraid of anymore, but I'm still afraid. Afraid of other people, afraid of doing things wrong, afraid of being noticed. I thought I could just figure out how to live like everyone else, and I mostly managed the practical parts, but... I don't know how to be okay. The only time I ever feel okay is... when I'm killing someone. And then afterward - I wonder if I really needed to do that, or if I just... wanted to make myself feel better." His soft quiet voice gets softer, quieter. "I don't like that. I thought... I thought that if I just did it enough, maybe the feeling would go away, and I could feel okay whenever I wanted, and it wouldn't matter. I thought that maybe, if I made it my whole life, I could feel okay all the time, and never be afraid again."