Pandemonium (Delirium, #2)

by Lauren Oliver

They speak softly, and tell lies, and smile as they’re slitting your throat.

Grief is like sinking, like being buried. I am in water the tawny color of kicked-up dirt. Every breath is full of choking. There is nothing to hold on to, no sides, no way to claw myself up. There is nothing to do but let go.

It occurs to me, then, that people themselves are full of tunnels: winding, dark spaces and caverns; impossible to know all the places inside of them. Impossible even to imagine.

We have picked each other, and the rest of the world can go to hell.