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She wasn’t stupid, but she needed to dream or this place was going to tear her apart.
“There’s no shame in a good cry,”
Reading helped her disappear into a pretend world where her own didn’t exist.
I don’t want to be alone anymore.
It was a memory that hadn’t faded with time, no matter how much she wished it would.
“But I’ve learned to be patient with the things I don’t understand because often all that is needed is time.”
“Sometimes the answers only make sense after all the questions have been asked.”
His openness caught her off guard, made her uncomfortable and curious.
Books are good company.”
She understood suspicion and mistrust. But this? She shook her head. She had little experience with kindness.
Tough childhoods could strip inhibitions from children pretty fast.
Reading was a luxury she didn’t often have the time to enjoy.
She wasn’t that old, but sadness left marks, and she bore plenty of them.
She’d told him they would bring him good luck because they were hearts. And that the heart was where love lived. And that love was magical.
Life was merciless and cruel. End of story.
It wasn’t easy to talk about failure.
It had been the worst kind of dream. The kind she couldn’t remember but that left her with a desperate, painful longing
But she couldn’t go back—
and she couldn’t give up. Her only option was to move forward until she couldn’t move forward anymore.
she wanted to stay because she liked the person she was becoming here.
But maybe talking about him, sharing memories of him, would fill the hole with something other than pain and regret.
There are some things that time can’t touch.”
It took an enormous amount of pain for anyone to contemplate suicide.
“What I’m trying to say is that I get it. I understand what it’s like to want an end.”
Sometimes it was also good policy to ignore
what she couldn’t answer.
I don’t see it. But that doesn’t mean you don’t. I think
you’re just better at seeing things for what they could be.
never show fear.
but the yearning to have something that was forever gone was unbearable.
Once it had been her refuge; now it looked like her coffin.
“Good girl.” She cringed, his tone making her feel like an obedient puppy.
There were memories she kept buried because they hurt too much,
