Maybe what frightens us about the edge isn't our fear of morality, but the thoughts it leads us to have.

She would do anything, anything to belong to his son after a lifetime of belonging to no one at all.

Don't forget how you got here. Don't Forget.

But instead of tears, when I press my face against the pillow, a horrible, primal scream comes out of me. It's unlike anything I thought myself capable of. Rage, unlike anything I've ever known.

And if I have to die trying, I will get out of here.

Eventually I realize that I am holding on to him just as tightly as he holds on to me. And here we are: two small dying things, as the world ends around us like falling autumn leaves.

Once upon a time there were two parents, two children, and a brick house with lilies in the yard. The parents died, the lilies wilted. One child disappeared. Then the other." Pg 225