Edward Cullen: I'm a killer.
Isabella Swan: I don't believe that.
Edward Cullen: That's because you believe only the lies... the camouflage. I'm the world's most dangerous predator, Bella. Everything about me invites you in. My voice, my face, even my smell. As if I would need any of that... as if you could out run me... as if you could fight me off. I'm designed to kill.
Isabella Swan: I don't care.
Edward Cullen: I've killed people before.
Isabella Swan: It does not matter.
Edward Cullen: I wanted to kill you at first. I've never wanted a human's blood so much, before.
Isabella Swan: I trust you.
Edward Cullen: Don't.
That’s right. It appears that I am living my own little Twilight Saga here. Everything about Mr. F.’s current condition from his sick, woebegone face to his deep, manly voice seems to "invite me in.” I find myself relating to insipid Bella Swan and not caring that his breath and touch could kill me (or at least lay me low for a couple of weeks.) I ask you dear readers (since following Bella’s example will only get me into trouble), how do I fight the lure and save my immortal soul?