It's quiet for a while, and then Rowan says; "We could talk now. We're alone out here. No walls." "There are always walls." I say.
My father warned me that you’re an interloper. He told me I should make you leave, since we’re no longer married and you’re not my concern,” he says. The thought gives me a chill. Yes, I’m sure Vaughn would love for his son to abandon me, s...
I think she's brave. I think that nobody has ever believed what she could be capable of. All her life, nobody was listening.
Set fire to the broken pieces; start anew.
Even things that aren't broken can be fixed.
This is the real Madame. I can see why she hides herself in accents and gems and exotic perfumes. I can see why she's grown to hate anything to do with love. She isn't evil or corrupt the way that Vaughn is. She's broken. Only broken.
This time as we ascend, I watch the world sinking below us. I watch the way the city fades into sand that gets washed by the ocean.
She’s a commodity in a sea of broken girls.
There is a silence so great that I can hear the ice crystals cracking and falling from eyelashes of girls who will never blink again.
There’s this anomaly that happens sometimes with twins. It occurs in the womb when the fetuses are growing too closely to each other. The stronger twin develops normally, while the weaker twin crumples and is encased by the body of the stronger twi...
We were his disposable things. Brought to him like cattle. Stripped of what made us sisters or daughters or children. There was nothing that he could take from us—our genes, our bones, our wombs—that would ever satisfy him. There was no other way...
I watch the ashes swim around like dandelion puffs, making swirls where bodies and walls once stood.
There is a dark place calling to me, but I will not go just yet. I know I can't return from it.
When we're alive, life consumes us. But when we die, all of the color and the motion is gone so quickly, it's as though it can no longer stand to be wasted on us.
A feeling can't kill you.
She's been conned, ruined, left for dead, and she's not going to forgive any of it. She will soldier on, if only out of spite.
I don't dare touch her. Loss is a knowledge I'm sorry to have. Perhaps the only thing worse than experiencing it, is watching it replay anew in someone else--all the awful stages picking up like a chorus that has to be sung.
Home?' I say. It's a word that can mean anywhere and nowhere.
