That's the thing about best friends. That's what they do. They keep you from spinning off the edge.

Take it from me: If you hear the past speaking to you, feel it tugging up your back and runing its fingers up your spine, the best thing to do-the only thing-is run.

I don't love you, Lena. Do you hear me? I never love you.

I start to follow her, and Alex grabs my hand. "I'll find you," he says, watching me with the eyes I remember. "I won't let you go again." I don't trust myself to speak. Instead I nod, hoping that he understands me. He squeezes my hand. "Go," he says.

that's what it was like waking up in the crypts. no-longer-dead. but without her. like burning alive.

Life isn't life if you just float through it.

That's when you realize that most of it-life, the relentless mechanism of existing-isn't about you. It doesn't include you at all. It will thrust onward even after you've jumped the edge. Even after you're dead.