This, the language of deception, we both understand. We were born to it, along with the curses.

I thought of how proud he was when he took the marks- cutting the skin of his throat in a long slash and then packing it with ashes until keloid scars rose up. He called it his second smile.

Poisonous jealousy thrummed through my veins.

Those who really love you don't mean to hurt you and if they do, you can't see it in their eyes but it hurts them too.

I'm the best kind of thief, the kind that leaves behind items equal in value to those he's stolen.

It is my belief that books are living things.

Clever girl. You play with fire because you want to be burnt.