Killman Creek (Stillhouse Lake, #2)

by Rachel Caine

I crave safety. And I know that seeking that in the arms of another man—even Sam—is dangerous. My safety has to be found within myself.

You never understand how vulnerable you are in this age of social media until something breaks against you, and then . . . then it’s too late. You can shut down Facebook, Twitter, Instagram; you can change your phone number and your e-mail. Move to new places. But for dedicated tormentors, that isn’t a barrier. It’s a challenge.

It isn’t fair, or right, but it’s dreadfully human, the way we tear each other apart.

Nightmares aren’t frightening once you wake up. Memories are.