More on this book
Community
Kindle Notes & Highlights
She looks at him, and the fourth finger on his left hand burns.
How long ago was it that I was here, cleaning up the abysmal mess? A couple of weeks, maybe? Less? It feels like longer. It looks like longer. It hurts like hell, the perpetual state of disarray this place seems to be in, compared to
the clean, bright space I used to know. And it hurts even more when I think about how much Mom would hate this.
was supposed to be weak, I was a kid. I didn’t need to be strong. I needed to be safe and loved, and I needed my dad, but I don’t anymore. I have people who love me. Who don’t think I’m weak or stupid or pathetic because I’m not. But if I was, I would get it from you.”
