Maybe I was afraid to trust him with something so personal as my devotion.

She is well practiced in the art of losing herself.

Well, half of half our faction.' 'In some circles they call that a quarter, Mar,' Lynn says.

You are far less likely to soil your pants and cry for your mother if you’re prepared to defend yourself.

You think my first instinct is to protect you. Because you're small, or a girl, or a Stiff. But you're wrong." He leans his face close to mine and wraps his fingers around my chin. His hand smells like metal. When was the last time he held a gun, or a knife? My skin tingles at the point of contact, like he's transmitting electricity through his skin. "My first instinct is to push you until you break, just to see how hard I have to press." he says, his fingers squeezing at the word break. My body tenses at the edge in his voice, so I am coiled as tight as a spring, and I forget to breathe.

Yes," she says, her eyes bright with tears. "My dear child, you've done so well.

I get up, because I’m supposed to, but if it were up to me, I’d stay in my seat for the rest of time.