The Brightness Between Us (The Darkness Outside Us, #2)

by Eliot Schrefer

Some of those threats were those mission control anticipated for vulnerable strangers in an unfamiliar world. Others were not.

“I don’t care how many kids died before and after me and Yarrow. That’s not our fault.”

I’m left with the fact that Father and Dad had a bunch of babies that filled them with love and hope, that those kids all died except two of us, and I just threw it in Father’s face because I want to go on an adventure.

“You’re laughing. At your precious daughter who’s been maimed by a yak,”

“I know that you two think you have all the answers, but you’re fifteen years old, which means you’re also idiots.

I think moods are an unappealing quality in a chair.”

My brother isn’t there. It’s like he’s someone else entirely. His eyes are dark, cold, lifeless. I’ve never met anyone new before, but it’s like a stranger has suddenly dropped into our family.

But there are still signs that he’s not himself. His brow is shiny. His hands are clenched tight. A thousand wrong things are hitting my brain in its subconscious parts, telling me that Yarrow isn’t quite Yarrow anymore. I see him see me see him. Don’t say anything, his expression says. He’s my brother, and I love him, so I don’t. But he’s also not my brother. I don’t know where my brother went.

Find this beacon. Ambrose and Kodiak, come. Find this beacon. Ambrose and Kodiak, come.

what if they copy all my thoughts and feelings into some chip and then lose it, so a version of me has to spend an infinity trying to get out of a transistor with no exit, only to find that they’re a technical fabrication?

I’m all alone, which heightens my “let’s fuck around” feelings.

You can stare at me because I’m hot. Just don’t stare at me because I’m supposed to be arrested.