Oh... Adrian, I've got one more favor to ask you. A big one." "Fondue?" he asked hopefully.

We try to do what's right, or rather what other say is right. But sometimes, when that goes against who we are...you have to choose.

How was it that Adrian Ivashkov, who never seemed to take anything seriously was the only one among these "responsible" people who paid attention to such small details? How was he the only one to really understand the magnitude of what I was feeling?

For a moment, I was captivated as I studied them side by side. My mother: the perfect picture of guardian excellence and decorum. My father: always capable of achieving his goals, no matter how twisted the means. Uneasily, I began to understand how I’d inherited my bizarre personality.

Rose is in red, But never in blue, Sharp as a thorn, Fights like one too.

You see something you like?

How do you say goodbye to someone who isn't exactly gone.