They were snobs or idiots or both...yet she was inexplicably crushed by their coldness.
I don’t want to fade away, I want to flame away - I want my death to be an attraction, a spectacle, a mystery. A work of art.
Everyone we've lost, we'll find. Or they'll find us.
It's turning out to be a bad day, a day when the sun feels like teeth.
She'd risked everything, and here was the result: the raw, warped core of her life.
I'm always happy," Sasha said. "Sometimes I just forget.