I can do pain. That’s the easy part of life. It’s everything else, happiness, laughter, love, that’s fucking complicated.

Life is full of luck, like getting dealt a good hand, or simply by being in the right place at the right time. Some people get luck handed to them, a second chance, a save. It can happen heroically, or by a simple coincidence , but there are those who don’t get luck on a shiny platter, who end up in the wrong place at the wrong time, who don’t get saved.

I realize that even through the hard times I’m sure we’ll face, I’ll never be able to walk away from her. -Micha

He gazes at the people in the truck. "Are you driving back with them? Smiling, I nod. "Yes." "With a bunch of dudes?" "Yes." "Is that safe?" My smile expands into a face consuming grin. " I am safer in that truck than I am anywhere else.

I shrug and shuffle my toe across the carpet in front of me, feeling silly. "So? It's a compliment being like you." All the humor evaporates from his face and his honey-brown eyes. Within seconds he has me in his arms and he hugs me like I'm the most important thing in the world to him. "Don't ever change, Callie Lawrence," he whispers in my hair. "Promise me you won't.

But no matter what happens, I spoke up, made a voice for myself, freed from the haunting memories that have owned me for the last six years. I found my courage.

To me, he is art, poetry for the eyes and heart. He is the most terrifyingly beautiful guy I have ever seen. And his scars have to tell a story...

I just let the pain take over, allowing it to numb the pain of being left behind.

Finally I find it, the book, but as I’m pulling it out of the stack I hear a noise coming from my toy room. It sounds like scratching or scraping maybe and my mind instantly goes to the possibility that maybe it’s a monster or a dragon or something else with claws. My hand shakes a little as I stand up and turn back toward the room. When I step into it, I feel the wind hit my cheeks. I shine the light around and notice one of the windows is open. I don’t understand why. I didn’t open it and I don’t think it was open when I came down here. What if it was a monster? I sweep the flashlight around the room at all my toys as I start back toward the corner. Then the light lands on something tall… I hear voices. Ones that don’t sound like they belong to a monster, but just people. But that’s what they end up being. Terrible, horrible monsters.

Seriously, it's like watching mild porn, watching you two eye fuck each other every two seconds.

I'm not scared of death, just tired. So fucking tired of being alive yet never fully breathing.

I don't believe that. I don't believe that there are bad things about you. Only things that you think are bad.

There are no accusations with writing, no judgment, no shame, only freedom.

I walk out the door with a heavy feeling in my heart as another secret falls on top of it.

Why do I always have so many fucking questions in my head?

It's what's buried deep inside that frightens me because it's broken, like a shattered mirror.

At least tell me you won? And that the scratches and dings were totally worth it." "Of course. They're always worth it," he says with a hidden meaning that only the two of us could ever understand.

It isn't as important to feel great about all the things we do. But how we feel toward the end when we look back at everything we've done.

Asher taps his fingers on his lips and I catch Amy licking her own as she eyes his mouth. "What exactly are Rocky Mountain Oysters?" he asks her.I restrain a laugh as Amy's face twists in confusion."Well...I think they're kind of meat. I'm not sure what kind, but I like them." She presses the end of the pen against her chin.I shake my head at Asher. "You don't want those. Trust me.

Life has been full of evil, and if you don't start asking the right questions, the evil is going to be the end of you.

Quinton: I think if every person had a Nova Reed in this world, then life would be a little sunnier.

You really need stitches," she tells me."Or you're going to have a scar." I try not to laugh. Stitches aren't going to help. They fix skin, cuts, wounds, heal stuff on the outside. Everything broken with me is on the inside. "I can handle scars, especially one's on the outside.

I won't let that night ruin you forever." But it did, it broke me into a million pieces and blew them away in the wind, like crumbled leaves.

Just you and me against the world.Always and forever.

So I let my shame own me, kill me, wilt me away into a thousand dead flakes, knowing if I kept it all in, she would never have to learn the dirtiness that was forever inside me--the bad, the ugly, the twisted. She could go on living her life happy, just like she deserved.

You've always had a good grasp on what's right and wrong. You just have a hard time admitting that sometimes you choose the wrong.

It was an earthshattering kiss, one that stole breaths, stopped hearts, and scared the shit out of me because it surfaced feelings I’d never felt before, ones that rendered me helpless.

He stops rocking the cage. "Oh, come on, Callie. It won't be fun if we don't rock it. In fact, the more we rock it, the better it'll feel." His voice drops to a deep whisper. "We can rock it nice and slow or really, really fast."..."Do I have your permission to rock away and give you the ride of your life?" Why does it feel like he's secretly talking dirty to me? "Yeah, go ahead, rock it nice and hard," I say without thinking, then bite down on my lip as the dirty section of my brain catches up with me. Honestly, I didn't even know that side existed.

Death. It's around more than people realize. Because no one wants to talk about it or hear about it. It's too sad. Too painful. Too hard. The list of reasons is endless.

Gemma, I’m not going to hurt you.” His voice is as smooth as silk as he winds around the bed, his radiant, green eyes fixed on me. “I promise I won’t hurt you. Everything’s okay.”I laugh sharply as I put weight on my weak legs. “That’s the biggest lie I’ve ever heard come out of your mouth, which says a lot since you’re the biggest liar I’ve ever met.

Carry me away. To where I can breathe. To where my soul can thrive again. To where I can be free. To where I can live again. Give me life. The ability to span my wings. And fly. Not fall. I never want to fall again. So help me survive. Allow me to flourish. And then let me forgive. (tattoo inscription)

You’re fucking special and if I want to act all possessive over you when some stupid art guy hits on you right in front of me, I’m going to. Either that or I’m going to have Ethan chase him down right now so I can punch him in the face.

One of the stall doors swings open and a fortyish-year-old woman walks out tucking her shirt into her jeans. Her heavy lined eyes land on Seth. "This is the women's restroom." She points a finger to the door. "Can't you read?""Can't you see that everyone in this club is about twenty years younger than you?" Seth retorts, turning to the mirror. With his pinkie, he messes with bangs. "Now if you'll excuse us, we're going to have some fun.

No one has ever needed me before because I’ve never let anyone that far in.

I take my time because I love how it feels to carry her, the way she needs me, the way I need to protect her.

Because I mean it. I don’t care about anything else. I could lose anyone else and make it through. But not you, Ella May. I can’t do this without you.