Frankly, I wonder who Frank was, and why he has an adverb all to himself.

I wanted him to feel what I felt when I was with him: that incredible combination of comfort, decadence, and wonder; the knowledge that, with just a single taste of him, I was addicted.

people think they know what they're getting, and they're always wrong.

In the end, though, I did not kill my sister. She did it all on her own. Or at least this is what I tell myself.

It was the first time she'd discovered something she really didn't want to find, and she didn't know what to do once she'd found it.

You know someone's right for you when the things they don't have to say are even more important than the things they do.

This was something she would keep hidden within herself, maybe in place of the knot of pain and anger she had been carrying under her breastbone...a security blanket, an ace up her sleeve. She might never use it, but she would always feel its presence like a swelling secret stone, and that way when she let go of the rage, she would not feel nearly as empty.