You have my word. If you return with me, you won't be harmed. I'd die first.

After running for my life from hunters, a girl with too much lip gloss doesn't register on my fear radar.

Because I know what it feels like to be used, valued only for what you can do... not who you are, not who you want to be.

It's unclear who moves first. We're in each other's arms, lips locked, melded, hotly fused. Our hands drag over each other, reacquainting, remembering, almost as if we're both verifying the other one is real flesh and blood.

What good is safety if you're dead inside?

My imprint is there for the world to see. I don't try to hide it with my hair or a high collar. When I got ready for school this morning, I kept thinking of Sean. How proud he appears. Unapologetic. And I want to be like that. I don't want to look cowed or ashamed. I may not want to be this, but I don't want to be that girl, either. I don't want to be afraid.

See you soon (but not soon enough).