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Monsters can be anyone—I know you just have to push a person far enough that they don’t know where else to turn but into the darkness awaiting them.
He doesn’t get to see me break. No one gets that.
Making small men angry should be a favourite game of mine—I always win.
Because independence sometimes masks loneliness, and it’s not until you’ve been independent for so long that you realise you’re lonely.
Finn and Alek are surrounded by rangers, but I hear Finn shout over them. “Sun, I’ll be with you soon!” I don’t know whether that’s a threat or a promise.
“I promised I would see you soon, and I can’t get you out, so the next best thing is coming in here
This massive, crazy man touches me like I’m breakable. Like I’m not a monster.
“You look like starlight, Gwenieve. Pure starlight.”
“Judging me? You have some nerve, Gwenieve. There are stories sung to our children, warning them about you.”
“You said that in a really funny, not so jokey tone, which makes me think you are bringing me out here to murder me.
Well, I guess if you want to call it a game, it’s one I’m playing for keeps.
