I feel a flash of grief so intense it almost makes me cry out: not for what I lost, but for the chances I missed.
I'd rather die my way than live yours.
The kidnapping, the kiss. I brought him here, after all. I rescue him an pulled him into this new life, a life of freedom and feeling.
No one had ever told her this basic fact: not everyone got to be loved.
If you cross a line and nothing happens, the line loses meaning.
It was unfair that people could pretend to be one thing when they were really something else. That they would get you on their side and then do nothing but fail, and fail, and fail again. People should come with warnings, like cigarette packs: involvement would kill you over time.