Crank, You See isn't any ordinary monster. It's like a giant octopus, weaving its tentacles not just around you, but through you, squeezing not hard enough to kill you, but enough to keep you from reeling until you try to get away. Try, and you hunger for it grasping clutch, the way its tendrils prop you up, your need intensifying exponentially every minute you refuse to admit its being (p.469)

And the thought of that makes me want to open a vein, experience pain, know I'm alive, despite this living death.

Don't Stop ...down, ...Down there ...down where ...monsters, ...Run!

How could I share the way my heart was breaking when my confessor didn’t believe

I told her about the man, not my daddy, she said, He was only making you into a real girl. I didn’t understand. But I made myself believe her. I was a real girl now. But what was I before?

And how can it be he's so in love with me? To grow up without love, and still have so much inside?

Life is full of choices. We don't always make good ones. It seems to Kristina you gotta be crazy to open your windows, invite the demons in. Bree throws rocks at the feeble glass, laughs