A dry laugh. "What happened---my<span style="font-style: italic">life</span>happened. I haven't trusted people since I was very small." He looked down and away. "I was probably six, and I went to hug my mother and she put a knife in my back. It did no permanent damage aside from a scar, but I learned that people were not to be trusted. Not friends, not family, not anyone." His fingers curled around the knife.<br/><br/>"I learned to prepare my own meals for fear of being poisoned. I watched what I said every second of every day, because someone was always listening. I schooled my expression and hid my feelings in case someone tried to use them against me. I had to be vigilant always, because there was danger everywhere." His bangs slid over his eyes once more. "I became hard, and cold, and angry, just to survive. I became ruthless and cruel and calculating, and I don't know if I can change." There was a note of hopelessness in his voice.