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You know girls, Doug offered. They get crazy ideas and run off all the time. Chelsey’s lips twitched, hating the implication that being born female made you automatically guilty of something.
There was no way Kat could know a dollar figure was attached to each case. A careful calculation multiplied by parents’ wealth, then divided by race and religion. The poorer and darker a girl, the less funds and time the department allocated to her rescue—after all, the public is a little less outraged when those types of girls go missing.
But then, I learned. I learned that I didn’t need shackles or chains to keep me bound. All I needed was four walls of pristine forest. And fear. The kind that festers and blisters, makes your limbs twitch. Yes. The best prisons are the ones created in our own minds.
there are bad people everywhere. That the truth is these people are not strangers. They are the men who you sleep with, the men you work with, the men you raise. I wish this wasn’t what it means to be female—it is not a matter of if something bad will happen, but when.
How a decision cascades. How one event can change everything.
People are conditioned to believe girls plus bad choices equals bad things. It’s a type of inoculation. Lead a good life, and nothing heinous will befall you. But no one is invulnerable. No one untouched.
Tomorrow belongs to those who can hear it coming.
Why did no one ever tell Lydia that the most dangerous thing in the world isn’t natural disasters or wars or weapons? It is unremarkable men with beautiful smiles and even bigger promises.
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She allows it to come. She lets the grief roll through her and crest. A foamy burst. Because what is grief but the other side of love?
