The Dawn Chorus (The Bone Season, #3.5)

by Samantha Shannon

‘Can I read it?’ He dipped his pen in ink. ‘Is it not ill-mannered to ask to read a private journal, Paige?’ ‘As we’ve long established, I don’t like you. I don’t care if you think I’m ill-mannered.’ ‘Hm. Now I think I will keep my journal to myself.’ ‘Like you would have shown me either way.’ ‘You will have to live with the uncertainty.’

I was a razor blade, all edge and gleam, and I needed to be dulled. I needed to fade. Not to die, not to disappear altogether – just to soften, so the world stopped catching on my sharp corners. So I didn’t feel it when it scraped me. I ached for the comfort of absence. I longed to exist less severely.

Trying to get a handle on your sanity, once it starts to slide, is a balancing act. Give a little to the broken parts of you, to keep them quiet and satisfied. Give a little more to the repairs.

‘Warden, please don’t dissuade me from the solitary mote of joy I have left in my tragedy of a life. I’m being hunted by a tyrant, my entire family is missing or dead, and I’m fresh out of the torture chamber. Please, just let me enjoy my coffee.’

See yourself as a force of nature, vast enough to defeat a god, and carry that image for all of your days.’