Everything about the house was rich, and dense, and rooted. It was everything I wasn’t. Even the air, with its distinct smell of oak wood and sage, spoke to its identify and its history. I couldn’t help but feel small here. Overwhelmed. Incompatible.

I hadn’t even left my room and already my day had taken a U-turn straight to hell.

The most dangerous enemy is not the one who lingers behind you in the shadows, but the one who walks beside you as a friend.

Not that it mattered though. The truth seldom ever did in the face of a juicy lie.

One misstep was all it took, and it all came crashing down. And they were right there waiting for it—eager and ready to bury me in the wreckage.