To die trying would be better than to die without purpose.

I stare at her collarbone that's framed with lace, the hollow of her throat, her shoulders that rise with each rise with the weight of her next breath. We're fragile things. Our bones show through our skin. What would any god want with us?

I think she's brave. I think that nobody has ever believed what she could be capable of. All her life, nobody was listening.

I never wanted to live forever," she says. "I just wanted enough time.

I start trying to stay unconscious. The problem with this is that no amount of willpower can change the reality.

Her mind is a bird that's trapped inside her skull, flapping and thrashing, never breaking free.

Poor kid,' Jenna says, and rolls her eyes toward me for a moment. Then she returns to her book. 'She doesn't even understand what kind of place this is.