Impulse (Impulse, #1)

by Ellen Hopkins

I want to scream, but I can’t find my voice, hidden somewhere in the indigo sea that has swamped my brain. Blue. Blue. Deep, dark blue. The blue that fills me with desire, the desire to find a small, sharp blade and watch blood run, red.

I try to look inside her head, see if the color in there is navy blue, like the space I’m treading

But why is mania bad, if it means you’re on top of the world, where everything is white? Bright.

And the thought of that makes me want to open a vein, experience pain, know I’m alive, despite this living death.

The need to feel safe because someone dares to wrap their arms around you in this cold, sterile place. The need to feel.

Not really, but thanks for asking. Why do they make you see your family when all you want to do is curl up in a little ball?

I’d rather be going blue, where no eyes can find me.

I can’t deal with your freaky mood swings, Vanessa. One minute you’re solid, the next you’re like water. Boiling water. I love you. But not enough to stay with you.

He turned his back, walked away, and I wanted to die right there. Instead I went home, where my hungry new razor blade lay in wait.

Salivating for steel, the cold caress of metal, skin at the mercy of my own hands.

I wanted her to fill the empty spaces left by a father who never once praised me, ‘friends’ who used me, an ice princess mom who raised me with glass kisses.”

“Smooth. Cold. Flawless. Tasteless. Glass. Agate. Sugarless sorbet.”

What did I ever do, but love you?”