A small shudder from Elan as her question dug up feelings he would rather not give voice or even thought. There were things that spawned so great a horror within Elan--latent thoughts--that were he to shine the light of consciousness on those dark corners, he would surely crumble to dust from the horror--the blatant, unchanging, ennui of his life and the possibility that this was, indeed, the end.

And Elan knew, somewhere, about the dangers of those thoughts, and had methodically avoided them, but Shelley was unearthing them.

"...The only thing here I love, or even have, really, is you."