‎Because if I hadn't been so afraid of everyone else, I might have told Hannah that someone cared. And Hannah might still be alive.

When you hold people up for ridicule, you have to take responsibility when other people act on it.

That's why you did it. You wanted your world to collapse around you. You wanted everything to get as dark as possible.

If time was a string connecting all of your stories, that party would be the point where everything knots up. And that knot keeps growing and growing, getting more and more tangled, dragging the rest of your stories into it.

And it feels strange, almost sad, to walk through ther empty halls. Each step I take sounds so lonely.

When the right moment appears, the key is to not let it pass.

I take a slow sip of lukewarm coffee, reopen the book, and read the words scribbled in red ink near the top: Everyone needs an olly-olly-oxen-free.