Imaginary Strangers (Dangerous Strangers, #1)

by Minka Kent

Whoever said there’s no rest for the wicked never met Lucinda Nichols.

I could kill her. I could free myself from the misery, abuse, neglect, and cruelty that has stained my life these past seventeen years.

I don’t know where I’ll go, but I can’t stay here . . . because there’s only one thing in this world that has ever truly scared me: my mother.

My social butterfly persona isn’t natural; it’s a necessity. To him, I’m charming and charismatic. For me, I’m simply trying to survive.

“Sociopathy is considered an antisocial personality disorder,” she explained. “It’s believed that one in twenty-five people in this country falls under this category.” The doctor paused, taking a moment to readjust her trembling hands. “After evaluating you, it’s my professional opinion that you, too, fall under this category.”

For the first time in my life, my chronic indifference and inability to empathize made sense.

Sympathy (and its cousin, empathy) are strangers I’ll never know—but that doesn’t mean I can’t pretend we’re great friends.

There’s nothing I won’t do to keep my family—and my secrets—safe.

Before I met him, I never trusted happiness unless I created it myself.

In a fucked-up way, sociopathy is my superpower—or at least that’s the way I’ve chosen to look at it.

From a young age, I decided that the devil I knew was better than the devil I didn’t know.

Society tells women we’re supposed to do it all, have it all, and be it all. But what society doesn’t tell you is that’s an impossible order.”

They say the devil you know is better than the devil you don’t.

Privacy on top of privacy on top of privacy.