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“I’m not crazy!” I screech. I take a deep, calming breath and arrange the smile back on my face. “I’m just passionate.”
You can’t hide from fate. That’s the funny thing about destiny, even if you try to escape it, it will always find you.
Not a single soul passes through the threshold of this house without me casting judgment—determining if evil resides in their soul. As they make their way through the maze of my dollhouse, I watch from inside the walls. They’re all judged. Every single one of them.
He’s not God’s disciple. He’s Lucifer’s little bitch.
“Who says you have to choose? Kill them all, Sibby.”
He’s definitely not pure. But I can’t say he’s evil, either.
Maybe people with dark souls aren’t all bad. Just because they’re dark, that doesn’t mean they’re not redeemable. That doesn’t mean there isn’t good in there.
“They say it’s all in our head. But I think they’re just suppressed. The things we see—they’re not in our heads. They’re in our faces. In our lives. And sometimes, in our bodies. They just can’t see them.”
Crazy people are the most interesting people in the world if you’d just let them be who they are. Medicating and drugging people until they’re mindless zombies would make anyone depressed,
