It's one of the things I love most about being an author - seeing the different covers from each country.

Something in my gut twisted so hard that it felt like I was being tickled by an invisible hand, and it took me a moment to realize what it was. Hope. It had been so long since I'd felt it that the sensation was like something living inside me, something wonderful waiting to break free, just like I was.

I'd been so set on an escape that was now impossible, and the only form of freedom left to me was death. It was a terrible kind of freedom—one from misery and pain, yes, but also one from lightness and laughter and life. It was an absence of everything.

When you're locked up in here for life, you learn to welcome the little freedoms.

Don't make the mistake of bringing your heart down here with you, there is no place for it in Furnace.

This place is full of unwritten rules.

Trust me-that toilet and me were best friends for the first few days I was here.