I hear my heartbeat. I have been looking at him too long, but then, he has been looking back, and I feel like we are both trying to say something the other can't hear, though I could be imagining it. Too long - and now even longer, my heart even louder, his tranquil eyes swallowing me whole.

I have done bad things. I can't take them back, and they are part of who I am. Most of the time, they seem like the only thing I am.

He touches my face, covering my cheeks with his hands, sliding his fingertips down my neck, fitting his fingers to the slight curve of my hips. I can't stop.

My problem might be that even if I did go home, I wouldn’t belong there, among people who give without thinking and care without trying.

Let the guilt teach you how to behave next time.

Sometimes crying or laughing are the only options left, and laughing feels better right now.

My Tris should look pale and small--she is pale and small, after all--but instead the room is full of her.