Anarchy at Prescott High (The Havoc Boys, #4)

by C.M. Stunich

Fucked by my dark gods, claimed by their inked hands, my soul destroyed.

If you agree to hate yourself because the world tells you to do so, then it’s already won. Don’t let them do that to you, make you despise yourself even as they lust and drool after everything it is that you already have.

don’t like Trinity Jade.” “At

growing up much faster than we should be.

“Avec toi j'ai l'impression d'être une personne et pas juste un bon coup.”

ne me chauffe pas comme ça,” he purrs, reaching up to run dirty fingers through his hair.

“Having you here tells me that maybe, just maybe”—he pauses to point at Batman’s logo on my borrowed shirt—“that the idea of good versus evil, of happy endings, of great romance … isn’t all bullshit. Possibility, Blackbird. That’s what you are to me, what you have been since we snuggled up together in a homeless shelter on a shitty, stormy night.”

“Having you here tells me that maybe, just maybe”—he pauses to point at Batman’s logo on my borrowed shirt—“that the idea of good versus evil, of happy endings, of great romance … isn’t all bullshit. Possibility, Blackbird. That’s what you are to me, what you have been since we snuggled up together in a homeless shelter on a shitty, stormy night.”

When you accept a person for who they are, you don’t choose bits and pieces. You accept every part of them, right down to the rotten bits. Because everybody wants somebody to love their rottenness.