More on this book
Community
Kindle Notes & Highlights
And his eyes shouldn’t carry the weight of the sea while holding the endless blue of the sky.
“Indifference to death isn’t going to help you here. Learn to be indifferent to pain, and you’ll become invincible. Defiant.”
I want to steal a piece of his soul that I can carry with me forever.
After all, good men are supposed to be made of sturdy bones and steel flesh, but Six is neither. He’s shadows and pain wrapped in a broken husk.
Six is like a lightning storm in the desert, as mesmerizing as he is dark and violent, with the potential to destroy in one merciless strike.
he is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen in my life.
Arrogant prick. “I just puked a little in my mouth.”
“You have a thing for everyone,” I say, lifting the bars of lavender and sandalwood soap and tucking them into my bag. “You’d fuck that tomato, if you weren’t already trying to get into my pants.”
But there is no monster more terrifying than the human being who lacks compassion.
“Safety is an illusion, remember?” “Yes, you’re right. But survival is reality.”
I’ve also come to realize that pain doesn’t strike at once, as one might think. It’s organic. From the moment you fall in love with someone, your pain begins. You just don’t feel it yet, but it’s there. The silence beneath your laughter. The shadows behind an embrace. Tranquility before the storm.
Falling in love means you have to be brave enough to accept the pain when it comes to stake its claim.
“Whatever gets in my way.”
But I already lost you once, and come war, or the fires of hell, I’m not losing you twice.”
“Because I have never seen that bastard smile the way he did this morning, when Tripp asked if you were still here.”
Because I’m sick. And so is he. We’re the perfect, twisted match, destined for pain like a sad tragedy. The moth who fell in love with the flame. He’s the reaper, and I’m his disciple.
I close my eyes, allowing the gathered tears to fall against the cotton pillow, as the truth surfaces over the chaos inside my head. I’ve fallen in love with a monster. And, perhaps, so has he.
To the rest of the world, you were just a girl. A lonely girl from the other side of that wall. But to me, you’ve always been more than that. The air when I couldn’t breathe. My voice when I couldn’t speak. When I couldn’t feel anything anymore, I felt you. Goddamn, Wren, you were my heart, pumping life into a body that was mostly dead. You were everything to me. You are everything.”
Dies Irae. Day of Wrath.
“’The fuck you waiting for, a red carpet?”
Some would say it’s a tragedy to erase the evidence. But the evidence will never be erased as long as there are those to tell the stories of the innocent and carry on their memories.
You see the world as it is. I see the world as it isn’t. But what we see individually is molded by our past, our experiences, and our hopes of what’s to come. Always remember that everyone has a story, and you’ll never know hate for another human being as long as you live. I pray, in time, your generation will heal from our mistakes. Perhaps you’ll come to know the truth that somehow escaped us along the way—there isn’t a vaccine in creation that can cure hatred and indifference to human suffering. They are the most virulent diseases in existence.
