It's like a razor blade edging its way through my organs, shredding me, all I can think is: It will kill me, it will kill me, it will kill me. And I don't care.

Less than a month ago all of August still stretched before us - long and golden and reassuring, like an endless period of delicious sleep.

The idea—the fact of it, the fact that he even noticed and thought about me for more than one second—is huge and overwhelming, makes my legs go tingly and my hands feel numb.

Quiet through the grave go I; or else beneath the graves I lie

This is pretty much the answer to every problem you encounter in suburbia: plant a tree, and hope you don't see anyone's privates.

I'll find you," he says, watching me with the eyes I remember. "I won't let you go again

The priests and the scientists are right about one thing: At our heart, at our base, we are no better than animals.