...five minutes from now, when everything else had dropped away and I realized the full impact of what I’d done, I’d feel my heart breaking.

My arms hurt from how tightly Patch held me. “Now that’s what I call a scream,” he said, grinning at me.

This is crazy," I told Patch in an undertone. "I'm crazy." He was on the brink of smiling again. "About you.

Father' is such an arbitary word. Douche bag, on the other hand.

I'd fallen in love with the devil.

Rollover minutes don’t work with curfews.

..but maybe this was a defense mechanism. Maybe my mind was making me see things I refused to accept were gone forever. It was filling the void, because that was easier than letting go.