The Wicker King (The Wicker King, #1)

by K. Ancrum

August grinned. “You still read fairy tales?” “Every part of the human condition is packaged neatly in fairy tales. Every bit of culture that makes us who we are.”

All virtues not granted at birth are taught to you by life, one way or another.

“It’s not weak. My mom once told me that being alone makes you feel weaker every day, even if you’re not,” he said quietly. “But it’s not as bad if you’re with other people who are alone, too. We can hold each other up like a card tower.”

Rina whirled around, eyes blazing. “If he’s your responsibility, you should be responsible enough to fix it. If you’re looking after him, look after him,” she whispered furiously. “What do you think I’m doing?” August shot back. “I think you’re doing your best,” Rina said, tossing the wet dishrag into the sink. “But your best is not good enough sometimes,” she said, deflating a bit. “Sometimes … you have to stop trying and just let someone else try their best. In order to survive.”

“They have stories about you, songs. They call you the Raven, the Golden Bird, the King’s Lionheart. Women smile at you as we walk in the streets; men talk about you over their fires. It’s written all over the walls. They love you and you can’t even see them … my Lionheart. Can you imagine?”

Why can’t any of you get it into your fucking heads: He is my only constant. My fixed point.”

“I’m always going to be a part of this world that doesn’t even exist anymore. I’m always going to look at you and…” August paused. “At one point it was just a game. At the river it was supposed to be a game. But now I can’t stop. I never could. I’m always going to want to be at your heels, fighting for you. Hurting myself because you tell me to. It’s fucked up and I’m fucked up now, too.” Jack’s face constricted with pain. He gripped August’s shoulders and shook him. “I never said I didn’t feel the same,” Jack said harshly. “Just because I don’t see the kingdom doesn’t mean it doesn’t still exist,” Jack said furiously. “As long as one of us remembers it, it still counts. We decide the end of the game, not them. Not anyone else. You’re so stupid, August. You’re so stupid and I love you so much.”

In this world and the next. They could take everything away and leave us with nothing, and I would still love you.”

Many young people, perhaps like you, find themselves being forced to carry something they never imagined would be so heavy, with no one around to support them. It must be said that they are rarely ever at fault for the multitude of ways they choose to bear that load. Even if they are destructive. They are not “failing”; someone has failed them.

You deserve to heal and grow, too. You deserve to have someone to talk to about your problem; you deserve unconditional support; you deserve care and safety and all the things you need to thrive. Just because you may not have them doesn’t mean you don’t deserve them. If someone tells you that you don’t deserve those things, they are lying. Keep trying your best. Ask for help when you need it. Do your best to be brave, but it is okay not to be. If you drop the weight you’re carrying, it is okay. You can build yourself back up out of the pieces. If your mind stops listening to you, it’s not your fault. There are billions of us; you are not alone. And lastly, whoever you are: I am so so proud of you.