There is warmth shooting through my broken body where there should be pain, and I put my arms around the back of his neck and I hold on to him. I hold on because you never know in this place when something good will be taken away.

I'm suddenly finding it hard to know the difference between nightmares and consciousness.

It's never right to give up on someone.

Someday I'll tell you all of it," I say. "I'd like that," he says. "No," I say. "I promise you won't.

She’s a commodity in a sea of broken girls.

She's beautiful and graceful, and she is very compassionate and loyal when you aren't responsible for the murder of her family.

None of the wives mention the security guards by the door, who will probably tackle us to the ground if we try to leave without our husbands.