Drop Dead Sisters (The Finch Sisters, #1)

by Amelia Diane Coombs

You know what’s not normal? A teenager trying to drown an eleven-year-old

old girl. A man trying to force himself onto a woman.

hypervigilance

doxing

wanted people to like her more than she liked herself.

I’ve spent so long feeling disappointed that this magical sisterly bond didn’t exist

between us that I neglected trying to build one in the first place.

Everything feels too much right now. Too much unknown. Too much hope. Too much dread. Too much anticipation for the morning to come,

it’s irksome that Eliana can still climb onto that high horse of hers whenever the mood strikes.

some women and their inability to admit that sometimes men make victims out of us. And it’s not our fault. It’s not my fault.

“Careful on that high horse,”

ER waiting rooms have to be a special kind of hell.

Society encourages women not to trust one another, but men? Men will always cover for each other.

if you let Guy go . . . men like that don’t change. If he assaulted you, Remi, he was going to do it to another woman. And another. If you’d called the cops, he’d get a slap on the wrist.”

some men only view you as a plaything. Guy wouldn’t be the only man to treat me this way, but he was the first. And if I have my way, he will be the last.

I’ll have Eliana and Maeve. The two people I’ve never asked for—and who would be harder to get rid of than a dead body.

For over a decade, I was worried that I wouldn’t be a good, productive, or funny (because my suffering is the basis of my humor, I guess . . . ?) writer if I was on anxiety medication. It’s been such a pleasant surprise to discover that I was, in fact, dead wrong.