The Siren

by Kiera Cass

It was no small thing to try, to find out what you cared about in life.

It was timeless and temporary, important and inconsequential. And I got to be a part of it.

I wanted to find a way to wrap myself up tightly enough so that the pain and sadness couldn’t cut through.

simply being alive was not enough to be called living.

“You never told me your favorite color before you left.” I grinned and shook my head at this ridiculous boy. So many, but mostly I like the color of autumn. “The color of autumn,” he repeated slowly. “Yeah, how everything looks like it’s on fire.” But it’s dying! Death never looked so lovely.

Books were a safe place, a world apart from my own. No matter what had happened that day, that year, there was always a story in which someone overcame their darkest hour. I wasn’t alone.

I watched this unassuming, calming boy, thinking he had no idea how extraordinary he was. You feel so safe, I thought.

“Be grand, be fearless. Make something people can’t look away from.”

People are cruel all the time. Not everyone gets what they deserve.

I know that every life ends, and it isn’t the amount of time we have that makes it valuable.

Children’s books held truths.

That I am not a burden. That I deserve a chance at life just as much as anyone else. That it is possible to love me.”

because of your true, consuming, pure love—you will thrive together . . . or you will perish together.

“There’s always room for love,” Padma whispered. “Even if it’s as small as a crack in a door.”

So, all I know is who I am and who you are.” I looked into his eyes, the glowing blue, and sensed that was all that mattered.