The Trespasser

by Tana French

You spend long enough being treated like you’re wearing a SHIT ON ME sign, you start to worry that the sign’s developing a reality of its own and now anyone you talk to can see it.

if they all waved good-bye and walked out of my life tomorrow, I’d still be the same person I am today.

I live inside my own skin. Anything that happens outside it doesn’t change who I am.

Time after time it’s left me gobsmacked, how people will tell you things they should keep locked inside for life; how ferociously they need the story to be out in the air, in the world, to exist somewhere outside their own heads.