At the end of a criminal’s life, it’s always the small mistake, the coincidence, the lark. The time we got too comfortable, the time we slipped up, the time someone aimed a little to the left. I’ve heard Grandad’s war stories a thousand times. How they finally got Mo. How Mandy almost got away. How Charlie fell. Birth to grave, we know it’ll be us one day. Our tragedy is that we forget it might be someone else first.

Ruthless. That’s my girl.

We all wind up drawn to what we're afraid of, drawn to try to find a way to make ourselves safe from a thing by crawling inside of it, by loving it, by becoming it.

He’s quiet then. We lie next to each other, twin corpses waiting for burial.

There’s nothing like a gunshot to make you the life of the party.

The easiest lies to tell are the ones you want to be true.

I'm sorry I kissed you- it was selfish and it upset you- but you can't ask me to pretend I didnt want to.