Twisted Hate (Twisted, #3)

by Ana Huang

Scared that if they looked too closely, they would see the real me, and the real me wouldn’t be enough.

Grief wasn’t one emotion; it was a hundred emotions wrapped in a dark shroud.

Before, Jules was beautiful in the way grass was green and oceans were deep. It was a fact of life, but not something that particularly touched me. Now, she was beautiful in a way that made me want to drown in her, to let her fill every inch of my soul until she fucking consumed me. It didn’t matter if it killed me, because in a world where I was surrounded by death, she was the only thing that made me feel alive.

“The monsters in our imagination are often worse than those in reality.”

the opposite of love wasn’t hate, it was indifference. The flames of hate and passion burned in equal measure.

All I knew was, he set me ablaze, and I never wanted the fire to go out.

Because even though pain hurt like a motherfucker, it proved you were still alive, and it was only after it faded that you could finally heal.