There Are No Saints (Sinners, #1)

by Sophie Lark

“Evil men always want to justify what they do,” she says. “And it’s not by telling you all their reasons. No . . . they want to push you, and bend you, and break you until you snap. Until you do something you thought you’d never do. Until you can’t even recognize yourself. Until you’re as bad as they are. That’s how they justify themselves . . . by trying to make you the same as them.”

And I realize . . . she’s everything I dreamed of and more. More vengeful. More strategic. More effective. More fucked up.

She fucked on that painting, and then she hung it on my wall. I’m struck anew by the absolute insanity of this girl. I admire her audacity. While planning how I’ll punish her for it.

“Absolutely I do. He disrespected you. Put his hands on you. I’d kill him for much less.”

“These ideas of right and wrong, good and evil . . . who taught them to you? Your mother? She’s the worst person you know. Was it the priest at church? Your boss at work? Who decided these things?” SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! “It’s up to you what’s good and what’s bad. There is no god outside you. You are god. This is your world, your life. YOU decide what to feel.”