Tamara, Taken Quotes

“These days, there are other names for us besides predator—more civilized ways to describe us. More scientific. The one that fits me the best is a name that’s flung about far too casually these days, but it’s accurate in my case. Psychopath.”
― Ginger Talbot, Tamara, Taken

“Ever since mankind first learned to bang rocks together and spark fire, people have been driven to define themselves, to build neat little boxes and climb inside.
They divide themselves up by religion, race, nationality. And even that’s not enough. They make the boxes smaller and smaller. They come up with all kinds of bullshit ways to categorize themselves. Introverts, extroverts. Leaders, followers. Morning people, night owls.
It’s part of the human condition—the desperate desire to figure out where you belong. To know the truth of who you are, what you are.
Me? I’d kill anyone who tried to put me in a box. And I learned the only two important distinctions very early on.
Predators, or prey.
Eat, or be eaten.
What difference does it make if you’re an introverted morning person…if you’re gurgling your last breaths through the wide-open smile that I’ve carved in your throat?”
― Ginger Talbot, Tamara, Taken

“Please don’t make me kill you!” Her face twists in panic. “I can’t be your slave again, Joshua. I can’t! Just leave!”
“You won’t be my slave.” I’m almost on her. I reach for the gun.
She shoots me in the foot, then screams in surprise at what she’s done.
Instantly, I compartmentalize the pain. And I glory in the fact that she couldn’t find the strength to kill me.
I lunge forward and snatch the gun from her hand. I wrap my arms around her as she howls and cries.
“Tamara. It will be different. I want you to come with me right now, I want you to stay with me of your own free will.”
“Never!” she howls. And the pain of it squeezes my heart.
This is what heartbreak feels like. No wonder people whine and cry about it so much. It’s vile. It makes me angry and sick to my stomach. It makes me want to kill people”
― Ginger Talbot, Tamara, Taken

“Remember how much you love the cane, Tamara?” I taunt her.
“Go…” She gasps for breath. “Go swallow ground glass…Joshua Smith. You’re fucking useless. When you die, nobody will miss you.” Her voice is a trembling rasp. God, she’s amazing. I’m never letting her go. Never. She’s my sweet, brave warrior”
― Ginger Talbot, Tamara, Taken

“I can’t!”
He cups my chin in his hand, and an odd kind of strength flows from him to me. “You can. You will. You’re stronger than you know, Tamara. Fight for yourself. You’re worth it.”
I feel as if my mind is splitting in two. My vision swims, and I think I see two Joshuas standing in front of me, and then they merge again.
He’s telling me to fight to save myself from him.
He’s telling me I’m strong and worthwhile.
Nobody has ever told me that before. Ever”
― Ginger Talbot, Tamara, Taken