I fall down and my palms split open against the gravel. Injuries on the outside are easy to endure and I get up without hesitation.

No one has ever needed me before because I’ve never let anyone that far in.

It's what's buried deep inside that frightens me because it's broken, like a shattered mirror.

You really need stitches," she tells me."Or you're going to have a scar." I try not to laugh. Stitches aren't going to help. They fix skin, cuts, wounds, heal stuff on the outside. Everything broken with me is on the inside. "I can handle scars, especially one's on the outside.

See, the same old Ella still lives." He grins... "She just needed a little push out."... "No, she doesn't. She's gone forever." "Try all you want, but I'm bringing her back.

It hurts to be around life. People don't understand how close death is, right over their shoulders, around the block, at the end of a street. It's everywhere.

Come with me somewhere. Please. I've been waiting eight months to talk to you