Glow (The Plated Prisoner, #4)

by Raven Kennedy

By the time I call for the army to stop, dawn is about to crest and the storm is still jacking off, dumping its endless load on us. Fucking prick.

That’s the thing with trauma to the body—it shows up instantly. In breaks and bruises, in burns and in blood. But the trauma on the inside, that’s harder to see. It creeps around your mind, poisons you with disquiet. It can hit you out of nowhere, debilitating and ruinous. There are no marks visible for those. None, save the shadows in your eyes.

You never notice what’s keeping you balanced until you realize you’re not standing straight anymore.

“One person’s pain doesn’t negate another’s. Our heartaches are not competition, but the bridge to empathy. So that we can look at one another and know that on some level, we understand. That’s one beautiful thing about grief, I think. That sometimes, we can find someone in the world to look at from the other side of the bridge of our torments and know that we are not alone.” The